It is an ugly truth, the necessity of overpriced coffee and the need to be away from the house that you keep wanting to change but are never able to. There are too many details about the rooms that call your attention that, instead of ticking off items from the list, they keep adding up to things that need to be done. The plans are all listed down in pieces of paper you keep under your pillow. You rewrite them in your dreams only to realize that dreams are meant to escape you when the alarm clock sets off. So, to get started, you take all your things and step out. In this city, there is nowhere to escape to and everywhere to be. You walk into a place that serves coffee in fancy cups, hoping to find what you couldn’t keep under your pillow. You will eventually learn that the value of being able to sit at a café’s corner by the window is the same as being able to walk from one point to another without just thinking of beating the minute hand to your destination. They keep talking about motion and stillness and inside and outside and finding the silence in all the noise. Everywhere, something needs to be changed but you don’t need to write them all down in your list. That was the first piece of paper you found at the turn of the light at the intersection. It is the beginning of the trail that the city has left for you. It includes an inconvenient detour to where the ocean laps at the edges of this island. The trail ends at the space between your bed and your pillow. If you had paid attention and strained to remember before putting the coffee pot on this morning, then you would know that the map was scrawled on your bedspread all along. But you could only think of washing the curtains and adding shelves to the wall while your morning coffee steeps silently in the mug on the table. You are always awake before you let it wake you up. The coffee was just part of a routine that, you now realize, maybe you no longer need.