Google Review: Bestie café, Auckland.

It may have been a dream. I can’t remember now. All that matters was my vision quest to find a bathroom. I’d been slamming flat whites into my bladder all morning. The caffeine shook my bowels like a city on a fault line. Was there going to be an earthquake in my pants?

Not today. I’d found the promised land. There were toilet-rolls stacked in towers. There were dried flowers in a vase. A neutral smell clung to the air, reminiscent of a well-scrubbed floor. The door lock worked, the toilet flushed and the taps of the sink flowed with beautiful, clean water.

Meanwhile, I looked above to the high heavens. My disembodied bowels grounded themselves in the waters below. When I woke, there was a shelf behind the cistern. Had it always been there? There was reading material. Books. They had my name on them. Did I put them there? I can’t remember now.

Everything felt like a dream. Was it wild of me to hope that my words could occupy a mind while the body perched on a porcelain throne? Perhaps, I live here now. Even books, shall eventually find their home.

Would poop again. 5 Stars.