I’ve been getting to know Akron little by little these past few months, trying to rid myself of the habit of considering this place “Cleveland’s little brother.” Most of my time has been spent at Angel Falls Coffee Co. in Highland Square, and it’s occurred to me that a primary objective in any new city is to identify a caffeinated home base.
I suppose I could have toured the city’s coffee shops and later selected the finest for my morning jaunts. But there’s something serendipitous and right about sticking with the first indie spot you happen upon. For me, in Akron, that was Angel Falls. (And still, the other places I’ve tried just haven’t stacked up for myriad reasons.)
Angel Falls is a bisected little storefront on West Market Street. On one side, the counter; the other, couches and tables and bookshelves and atmosphere. I tend to hang at the little four-seat bar that looks out onto the neighborhood and sort of sits squarely between the two halves of the place.
From here, I can take those many moments in between bursts of writing like a quarter of a sentence and watch West Market pass by. There’s not much, per se, to look at — this half-block slice of the neighborhood — but people come and go constantly, threading together tiny strands of life in Akron, and that motion in itself helps nudge along my muse.
The coffee’s good, too.
Sandy 