Never mind the yerba maté, the bigass weekend waffles, and Italian sodas. Never mind the comfy couch, the wi-fi, and low lights. That's all inside, within the folds of one of Austin's most beloved and intimate coffeehouses. Now outside is the cafe's life mate and compatible counterpart: Under a canopy of crepe myrtles, various flora, and thatch, the dawn disappears into day and day disappears into dusk as poets chisel into notebooks, lovers process, and the mantis resides, humble in prayer. This Eastside adobe is our temple of the temporal, an earthly easy chair, a respite from all that distracts. It's impossible to not breathe here.
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Information is power. Support the free press, so we can support Austin. Support the Chronicle