"The world is what it is, which is to say, not much." - Albert Camus

     Last Friday morning I had a phone meeting with the property manager to go over some details. I did not like the fact that there were no guarantees on a hood that was over thirty years old and that the owners of the property were adamant about the high rent. The previous tenants had abandoned ship after only a few months into the contract.

   There were so many reasons that I should abandon my dream but I remained undeterred. I had met with local farmers that I had known for years and we talked about wholesale prices. I spoke with the finest Hi-Fi shop in Pittsburgh about purchasing a vintage record player and tower speakers to create an amazing vibe that I have not experienced in a coffee shop since I was a teenager. I conducted meetings with Presto George (my favorite coffee and tea supplier in the Strip District of Pittsburgh) about importing Columbian Geisha (GESHA) beans for pour-over coffee that is only to currently found in the most upscale shops of downtown London and Seattle. I spoke with restaurant suppliers about boxes of Norkotah potatoes to make pom fritte in the traditional method.

     I left for work that evening ecstatic with my heart full of hope that soon I would no longer be walking into this house at this time of the day, but walking out of my own to enjoy the weekend evening in a mere few weeks. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. My long winter of purgatory was coming to an end and I was looking forward to summer and owning a little French take-out of my own. I could practically smell the beignets frying and the Cafe Du Monde brewing in the tower.

     The restaurant was a madhouse right out the gate that evening! The orders came fast and furious and they were dutifully stacked around the corner as we were already deep in the weeds. Then, all of the sudden, the dining room and bar cleared out completely and the waitresses came back to the kitchen. I walked out into the bar and it was the first time I had seen it completely empty on a Friday night. I opened my phone and saw the bombs rain down on Tehran.

     I knew right then in my heart that I no longer lived in a country where dreams are built and nourished, but one where they are strangled and starved out amongst endless war and medical tyranny.

     I know what path I must walk now.