My love for quirky coffee shops knows no bounds. The old lady donning the pale pink coat, requesting two sandwiches (one to be devoured within the loudly colorful walls of the neighborhood’s caffeine fix and the other for the trip home), a bag full of “goodies” and an irish cream latte, the leather-clad Deniro look-a-like (who, as it turns out, is a photographer and wants me to model as a pin-up for him), the assortment of disgruntled college students, hazy from a night of drinking. The occasional game of eye-tag with the gorgeous stranger in plaid sitting across the room. Django Reinhardt’s sweetly lilting melodies drifting throughout the room. Hot pastries behind the glass, their scents as lickable as the cute toddler in the corner with the pudding smudged across her face. Das leben ist schön.