The moving lights move sluggishly off the marble table which the Philippine waiter wipes briskly. It’s real marble, the color of coffee. You get the feeling that all the plants here have nothing to do with coffee trips, but everyone watches the coffee-colored blond sitting at a table. Everything tastes like coffee. It tastes just like coffee, but coffee cups are coffee cups. Ah, a coffee cup—the holy gruel.
9 July 1975