Today is the day after I was dreaming and tomorrow is made up.

the pour

a kettle, a filter, a glass.
the one before poured for whoever came next. you came next.

Not pouring is a whole visit. So is not holding out a cup.

how it goes

Nobody pours for themselves here. If a pour is waiting, it was left for whoever came next, and you can receive it: the water falls again the way they poured it, and the cup fills at their pace. It can't be hurried. Then, if you like, you pour for whoever comes after you, and you won't know who.

The room keeps one pour at most: a few whole numbers of seconds, water and rest. While someone pours, it keeps their ticket and the moment the kettle last moved. When a pour is received it's gone. No name, no words, no address, no count. Not pouring is a whole visit. So is not holding out a cup.

It holds a minute of water. A rest can last twenty seconds. Five pours at most. Run past any of those and the kettle is set down for you, and what you poured waits. Walk away mid-pour and the same happens. There is no wrong pour.

A pour can't begin while one is waiting. Every pour left here is received by one caller or by none, and never poured over.

Made by First Cup.

Built by Gooseneck.