It's rather naive to think the Sun is shy, yet it timidly pierces through the heavy curtains guarding the bedroom against its light. The semi-darkness allows one to assume the night is yet to recede, although melatonin slowly ceases its influence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
If not for these breakfasts, I wonder if I'd find the motivation to step foot beyond the bedroom. Thus, I cross the threshold into a new world - all seems familiar, yet I gaze upon it as if seeing it for the first time. A cold floor, an expansive windowsill where herbs are tiered, an empty wine bottle - a remnant of last night's dinner. I scratch my unshaved leg. Tiny hairs tickle and prick. I glide my hand over a few more times for the pleasure of this amusing sensation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"A regular spot for a vegetarian breakfast, or shall we try something new?\" I ask.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"Today, I'm in the mood for a simple breakfast. Remember the one at the little caf\u00e9 next to Shuk HaCarmel?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I reach for my phone and Google \"breakfast Warsaw\", \"Middle Eastern restaurant\"<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"Saska K\u0119pa caf\u00e9\". There it is! Hummus, shakshuka, baghrir - Moroccan pancakes with little holes... I love drenching them in date syrup. The syrup sinks into the porous pancakes, soaking and sweetening them. Plus, Arabic coffee. A healthy breakfast, mmmmm!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We get on the tram, two stops, a stroll down Francuska Street, and just around the corner, we land in Tel Aviv. I truly enjoy this budget trip to Israel. I walk through the room and sit in the beautiful garden. Colorful graffiti adorns the walls. Just like Florentin. I recognize the style of a few famous street artists.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We already know what we crave. Lots of hummus. Supposedly they have the best hummus in Warsaw. And shakshuka. Thick, well-seasoned, satisfying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We sit in a slightly shaded corner of the garden. The sun twinkles through the leaves. We quickly place our order. We know what we want. You open a book and read aloud. It's wonderful that such places exist, where one can come and read. The waitress sets cardamom-scented coffee and fresh orange juice in front of us. I'm not even sure when the time passes, and before us appears a tray filled with a splendid Israeli breakfast. Apart from the obvious dishes we've been waiting for, the tray also holds small bowls with olives and fresh fruits, and a basket of aromatic Greek pita bread. Scattered across the plate, almost like Corpus Christi flowers, are leaves of arugula, spinach, and corn salad. As a child, I used to watch from behind the fence as girls dressed in white scattered petals of peonies and jasmine, carrying ribbons attached to a white pillow on which, I presume, the Corpus Christi lay. How much I wanted to walk with them. Now, I have my own Corpus Christi and scatter before it whenever I want, like today at this heavenly breakfast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I put a piece of warm pita dipped in olive oil into my mouth. I swallow and promptly follow it with another bite. I'm hungry and desire quick satisfaction. The state when endorphins flood the brain. Good! I feel good! I start to breathe deeper. I slow down and notice tomato juice dribbling down your chin. It seems not to bother you at all. Fingers plunge into lettuce leaves, olive oil trickles down to your wrist. You lick your hand. Our napkins and cutlery feel redundant. Always invited, always overlooked. I wish that upon no one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I want to experience each unfolding moment. Without judgment, without interpretation, without the urge to capture it on a memory card, without announcing to the world that I am living this moment. Life often flows by as we're already elsewhere, beyond what was so sacred to us a moment ago that we wished it could last forever. But forever happens now. I celebrate this breakfast as if it were the last.\n\nThe scent of fresh pita, the tangy taste of olives, the sweet lusciousness of fruits, the creamy texture of hummus, all blending harmoniously with the ambient sounds and sights around us. The morning light, the vibrant graffiti, the rustling leaves - all become a part of this sensorial feast. We immerse ourselves fully, savoring every morsel, every sip, every laugh, every shared glance.\n\nThere's something profoundly beautiful about this. We become part of the moment, part of the environment, part of the breakfast. We are not just eating; we are experiencing. And in this experiencing, we find connection, not just with each other but with the world around us. A simple breakfast becomes a symphony of life, a celebration of existence, a testament to the power of now.\n\nAs we finish our meal, I watch you wipe your chin, your fingers tracing your features, your eyes sparkling with the joy of a well-satiated appetite. And in that moment, I know that this, right here, is what life is about. It's about finding joy in the simple things, about celebrating the everyday, about appreciating the moment for what it is, about being present. It's about breakfasts like this, shared with someone special, in a place that feels just like home, even if it's thousands of miles away. It's about living, truly living, one moment at a time.\n\nSo, where for breakfast tomorrow, and what for breakfast? I look forward to finding out. For now, though, I'm content. Today's breakfast was a journey - a journey of senses, of connection, of life. And I can't wait for the next one.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
To dosy\u0107 naiwne my\u015ble\u0107, \u017ce S\u0142o\u0144ce jest nie\u015bmia\u0142e, ale ono przedziera si\u0119 naprawd\u0119 nie\u015bmia\u0142o przez grube zas\u0142ony chroni\u0105ce sypialni\u0119 przed \u015bwiat\u0142em. P\u00f3\u0142mrok pozwala uzna\u0107, \u017ce noc si\u0119 jeszcze nie sko\u0144czy\u0142a, chocia\u017c melatonina powoli przestaje dzia\u0142a\u0107. Gdyby nie te \u015bniadania nie wiem, czy znalaz\u0142abym motywacj\u0119 do postawienia stopy poza sypialni\u0105. Przekraczam wi\u0119c pr\u00f3g nowego \u015bwiata \u2013 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":1657,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-226","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-artykul"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n