The cafeteria is one thing that I'd like to enjoy a little bit more in this life. Let me see, I explain it well: I like coffee shops, what to say about the drink that gives them their name, I do it on one occasion, but, despite trying, I have never been able to read in coffee shops, for example, there are still too many elements that call my attention, to start with the coffee itself, that is, by the drinker himself. I am not, therefore, and for my misfortune, a cafeteria writer. Another is the case of Antoni Martí Monterde, author of the significant essay Poética del Café.

His thesis is that without coffee shops it would not be possible to explain the wording of modernity and even explain the very idea of modernity. If the civilization of the word is modernity, if it's been Western, for so long, the culture of dialogue, it's because the life of coffee shops has taken centre stage. The cafeteria is a space, a space, an institution, where the drink that gives its name goes far beyond the place where one drinks, where there is an interruption of normal life, which is precisely what allows one to think of one's own life. It's not so much moving away from reality, but taking distance, critical, ironic distance, to flee from oneness, to think together, to make the city live. Josep Pla wrote: “Everything was happening in the Cafes, and what didn’t happen in the Cafes didn’t exist. The decline of the cafeteria is the decline of an entire civilization.”

Coffee, and by extension, the cafeteria, mental arousal, prolonged wakefulness, intensification of heterodoxia. Another debate is whether coffee needs vacuum, cut, with milk, an unsurpassed blend for Borges. In our case, however, we have not traditionally been supporters of bars but of the cafeteria. What you want, that's what has among its merits to be the people of having invented the kalimotxo.