Even the coffee Jon brings me every morning feels like sorcery. Something grows in the earth. It’s harvested, roasted, ground, and percolated. I drink it and, like Alice, I am changed. It wakes me up. It gives me strength and speed; superpowers, really. At the end of the day, a glass of wine is another kind of potion. Another plant comes out of the earth, is readied by technique and time, and when drunk has the power to unwind you, let you take a step back, and quell stress. So many everyday rituals amount to a magic trick being performed by biology, technology, or some other branch of
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