
Crescent Moon, Reluctantly
What was it meant to be?
11 pours, one barista with a dream and no training. Look closely, then tell us what each one was supposed to be.

What was it meant to be?

What was it meant to be?

What was it meant to be?

What was it meant to be?

What was it meant to be?

What was it meant to be?

What was it meant to be?

What was it meant to be?

What was it meant to be?

What was it meant to be?

What was it meant to be?
Every cup here was poured at home or at the office, with milk, espresso and optimism. None of them were staged, and several were drunk before anyone could improve them.
Nobody is claiming these are good. They are claiming they are ours.