cheesecake with clowns

every once in a while u come across a place that becomes u. the smells, the sounds and the general buzz of the place permeate yr being and without even being aware of it, u make it yr own. what becomes yr own is not the place as it is, but the place as u are. u carry it within u wherever u go. or at least i do! bombay is one such place, in fact the first such place. but this post is about another.

clowns is a cafe that embraces anyone who enters it. with its walls (and even the ceiling) entirely hidden behind drawings of every type of clown u can imagine, and those u can't, it is a bit strange. some might even find it disturbing...there are clown dolls and puppets hanging from the ceiling now and then. the cheerful and flirtatious italian men behind the counter are a refreshing change from the typical stiff brit service. but the most beautiful thing about clowns, for me, is the madness that i experienced when i used to go there. the random conversations, the drinking 2 mochas at one go and then having yr neurons doing the fugue in yr head and outside of it, ordering 4 cheesecakes (for 2)when its time for the last order (and then feeling sick), pretending the next day's essay submission really does not exist, leaving only when they start switching off the lights...

clowns, come back and make me laugh again.