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A Point of View

Until recently I was certain that my coffee addiction was nothing more than a filthy habit.  A terrible vice I ought to consider torturing myself into giving up. People had said all sorts of things, how my two cups of indulgence a day (at least) would likely lead to fertility problems, or permanent halitosis or scaly skin. I usually listened to these protestations whilst sipping from a cup, nodding without conviction. I couldn’t articulate just how much coffee saved my life on a daily basis.

I am not lucid all the time; reality for me is discordant, fragmented. A question scatters thoughts in my brain like a beam of light shone at a colony of cockroaches skittering away in different directions. I know what you’re saying, it’s just that at the moment you said it my consciousness kind of fell apart. Many years ago I became convinced that I had…

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