Rodrigo Amarante – Irene

My sister described this as ethereal. I agree. I would like to sit and drink a coffee in another country while I listen to this guy play from within the cafe. The waitress would come by every ten minutes and ask “┬┐Quieres otra copa?” in a barely audible voice, to which I would reply “no estoy bien” and smile just a little. Her eyes would be brown and I would secretly be in love with her, but I would say nothing. Instead, I would glance at the cobblestone sidewalk and become interested in the type of stone they choose. You can tell I’m daydreaming. I don’t even like coffee.