Rediscovering Sophia

The Intelligence That Sees the Pattern — and Moves Accordingly

If Lilith is found out on the mound — wind in the ears, time dissolving slightly at the edges — then Sophia, I find, prefers a table.

Preferably one that is clean. Properly set. With a view of something old and faintly ruined.

In this case, the courtyard of Bigod Cafe, with the remains of Bigod Castle keeping a quiet, watchful eye over proceedings.

It is, I must say, an establishment of a certain decorum.

No frantic laptop tapping. No theatrical self-display. No desperate attempts at relevance.

A clientele that has, for the most part, accepted its position in the grand arrangement of things — or at least learned how to sit comfortably within it.

Retired professionals. The quietly solvent. The occasional artisan presence, expressed through linen and muted confidence.

And, from time to time, myself — renegade element that I am — meeting my daughters.