Sep 22, 2026 · 5 min · 5 segments
Everything in today's cup has a colour — except for the pale, straw-yellow pieces that look as if they were dry before they were ever dried. They sit in the water, hollow and faintly gold, doing…
Everything in this pot has a colour.
Deep green leaf.
Grey-violet buds.
Brown root.
And then there's the thing that has almost none.
Pale, straw-yellow pieces, cut into short lengths, hollow if you look closely.
The colour of hay.
It's the only thing in the cup that looks as if it were already dry before it was dried.
It doesn't do much in the water either.
It doesn't unfurl or sink or bloom.
It just sits there, faintly gold, and gets on with it.
Lift the cup and breathe it in.
Mint at the front, cold and quick.
Let it pass.
Behind it, a lemon that isn't a lemon.
Softer, rounder, greener than the fruit.
There's no citrus peel in this cup.
That smell is coming from the hay.
Breathe in once more.
The mint has gone by now.
The lemon is still there.
Take the first sip.
The mint lands and cools and leaves.
And in the space it vacates, something lifts.
A light, bright note through the middle of the mouth that stops the cup from being simply cold.
Everything in this pot has a colour.
Deep green leaf.
Grey-violet buds.
Brown root.
And then there's the thing that has almost none.
Pale, straw-yellow pieces, cut into short lengths, hollow if you look closely.
The colour of hay.
It's the only thing in the cup that looks as if it were already dry before it was dried.
It doesn't do much in the water either.
It doesn't unfurl or sink or bloom.
It just sits there, faintly gold, and gets on with it.
Lift the cup and breathe it in.
Mint at the front, cold and quick.
Let it pass.
Behind it, a lemon that isn't a lemon.
Softer, rounder, greener than the fruit.
There's no citrus peel in this cup.
That smell is coming from the hay.
Breathe in once more.
The mint has gone by now.
The lemon is still there.
Take the first sip.
The mint lands and cools and leaves.
And in the space it vacates, something lifts.
A light, bright note through the middle of the mouth that stops the cup from being simply cold.
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