Tea

I developed a taste for tea in late 2005, after growing tired of always drinking coffee while reading. One evening, almost out of restlessness more than intention, I set the coffee aside and reached for tea instead. It wasn’t a dramatic switch - just a quiet decision - but it changed the rhythm of those moments. The bitterness was softer, the pace slower, and I found that the drink asked me to wait in a way coffee never did.

At first, tea was simply an alternative, something different enough to keep me engaged while my eyes moved across the page. But before long, I started noticing how naturally it paired with reading. The act of steeping mirrored the act of absorbing words: both rewarded patience, both punished haste. Cups were brewed too strong, too weak, forgotten on the desk and rediscovered cold. Each one taught me something small but lasting.

Over time, tea became less about replacing coffee and more about defining a space of its own. It marked long stretches of focused reading and quiet thought, moments where nothing needed to be rushed. What began in late 2005 as fatigue with a familiar habit slowly became an affection - built on repetition, attention, and the understated comfort of returning to the same simple ritual, day after day.

I’ll work to collect my favorite teas for reference.