Kami Corban

The next morning, I eat a continental breakfast at a sidewalk cafe. Shanklin has a lot of them, and I wander in to the first one I see. The café has wooden tables and a solitary waiter. His nametag reads “Phillip.” He has shoulder-length hair and a thick accent. I’m the only customer, and he keeps returning to my table to refill my coffee cup. Free refills are an American custom; the British c Read more of this blog post »