A Tea Reader: Living One cup at a Time by Katrina Avilla Munichiello

By Katrina Avilla Munichiello

A Tea Reader incorporates a choice of tales that hide the spectrum of existence. This anthology stocks the ways in which tea has replaced lives via own, intimate tales. learn of deep relatives moments, conquered heartbreak, and peace present in the face of loss. A Tea Reader comprises tales from all kinds of tea humans: humans mentioned it the tea culture, these newly gaining knowledge of it, vintage writings from long-ago tea enthusiasts and people making tea a occupation. jointly those stories create a brand new snapshot of a tea drinker. They convey that tea isn't really easily whatever you drink, however it additionally presents quiet moments for making very important judgements, a catalyst for dialog, and the power we occasionally have to function in our lives.

The tales present in A Tea Reader conceal the spectrum of existence, akin to the advance of latest friendships, starting new careers, taking dream trips, and primarily sharing the deep moments of lifestyles with acquaintances and households. locate reflections of your self and people you recognize in tales equivalent to a tea store proprietor whose middle is damaged via storm Katrina, after which unearths the energy to begin back, or a girl sharing a final second along with her father over a cup of tea.

Whether you're a tea lover or now not, the following you will find tales that talk to you and encourage you. sit, seize a cup, and skim on.

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Sample text

Ian is lurking somewhere nearby. He got me into this and is getting a huge kick from it. At my tender age I don’t have any idea what it means, but I can feel the buzz. Michele Savage is here. And Connie Ridgeway and Colleen Bisharat. All of the yearned-for fifteen-year-old women—so far above my lowly prepubescent but ardent station—are gyrating to Fats Domino right in front of the gear. I push past them to my drums. Pete is plugging in, and his amp is squawking. The hubbub of voices in the room immediately hushes, and all eyes are on us.

I did get the genes for stringed instruments and mallets (guitars and drums), which I find naturally easy to play, but my fingers just don’t do keyboards. No matter how many hours, years, or decades I spend composing on the keyboard, my hands just can’t find their cunning. I can find the notes that my head dictates and check them against one another to build harmony, but I can’t play them in rhythm. I can play the rhythm of the notes I want but can’t find the pitches fast enough. I can play my music with good rhythm and wrong notes or with correct pitches and no rhythm.

No matter how many hours, years, or decades I spend composing on the keyboard, my hands just can’t find their cunning. I can find the notes that my head dictates and check them against one another to build harmony, but I can’t play them in rhythm. I can play the rhythm of the notes I want but can’t find the pitches fast enough. I can play my music with good rhythm and wrong notes or with correct pitches and no rhythm. At least back home in London, my dad’s Beocord open reel recorder allowed me to record two parallel tracks of guitar.

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