One picture, a thousand stories-Wk15

The stall is not overdecorated—its roof: zinc, its columns: wood, its desks: big pieces of trunks of trees. Mismatched orange plastic chairs are pulled up to tables, ready for anyone who wants to come sit a spell, drink a coffee, take a load off.

It was not so late in the day that there should yet be a line in front of the stall. There weren’t many people sitting casually, biding their time. Before him was the glass of water and the pack of food where they had lain as when they had been relinquished. Maybe he was meeting someone, or maybe he was appreciating the silence after a busy morning at work.

Loitering behind was some six perfectly parked bikes that were proof that this stall was also a favourite pit- stop for drivers too. Helmets were hanging from handlebars, and coconut trees seemed to be growing between bits of broken concrete on the floor, imbuing the place with the sense of nature reclaiming it. This is more than a food and beverage destination, it is a waiver, a resting point, a moment of mental relaxation.

This stall, plain as it may seem, is however very special. You won’t hear loud music, see overly uptown looking waiters, but that’s just the kind of warmth it has to give. It’s heard the laughter of old friends, the nonsensical prattle of neighbors, and perhaps it’s seen a comforting haven of silence for someone somewhere.

Another man farther back in the stall sat, too, absorbed in his phone. Over the other end, the stall owner was chatting with a familiar customer. Times have changed, places like this survive because they have unchanging values -- because what they un-adaptingly have is authentic simplicity and a vibe you want people to come back to.

This unpretentious stall serves as a reminder that joy isn’t always found in big and shiny. Sometimes, no more is necessary than sitting back on a plastic chair, with a glass of water in hand and the fresh air, to feel calm and grateful.

I invite
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