The World and the Aroma of Coffee

At what point did the aroma of coffee become an indispensable part of my life's system?

Perhaps it was in my mid-twenties. At that time, I was wandering aimlessly around the world, struggling to solve a puzzle that was a bit too complex, known as life. It might have been a kind of quiet war.

The coffee I drank on the street corners of foreign lands always carried a special weight.
The cafe latte I sipped on the freezing snowy mountains of Canada, the espresso I downed while lost in the bustle of Milan, the cappuccino that resembled the afternoon clouds of Paris. And the Jamaican Blue Mountain I encountered in a corner of Shibuya.

Those aromas are still deeply, heavily, and vividly etched into the depths of my memory, much like an old recipe book.