Close your eyes and picture this. Wait. No keep them open, or you can’t read. Squint knowingly, and pretend to look into the semi distance. You are on a spit of rocky, mist shrouded land projecting into a white void. The water laps softly at your feet, but you can barely see it, the morning mist is so thick. Somewhere near by, a canoe carrying Pieter Wispelwey coasts by, the strains of his ‘cello floating through the thick atmosphere. Your pet fox Roy is doing a tarot card reading for a wood duck named Alphonse. As you soak in the opening stanzas of Suite no. 1’s Sarabande in G Major, you sip bearberry tea from your Kupilka cup, available in red, brown or green. Perhaps the leaves have settled a bit, so you take your tiny very cute spoon and give the tea a swirl. The fox draws a 10 of swords. The wood duck sighs. The tea is bitter yet soothing on your tongue. The sound of Pieter’s sweater clad arm bowing the strings sounds oddly moist, like his arm is a giant tongue, licking and tasting the air.
Here’s a recipe for a weird tasting tea: 10 leaves of bearberry, aka wintermint, crushed. Add a double handful of long white or yellow pine needles, twisted and smashed in the fist. Add boiling water, and let sit for one Gigue. Sip from your Kupika. Cures mild aches, strengthens teeth, and wards off colds. Really.
Kupilka stuff is all made in a carbon neutral facility in Sweden or Norway or one of those places where people scold others who don’t take the train often enough. Not because they buy carbon credits, but because they make things in a not evil way to begin with. Kupilka uses some sort of engineered wood scraps to make their products, and it’s glued together with a majik wood glue that is actually biodegradable / compostable / burnable. They tell you, when their mug / spork is clapped out, toss it in the night’s bon fire. That’s not to say these are one use items, you will get years of use out of it. It’s just that, eventually you will want the red one if you bought the green one, etc.
CART TOTALS :
CART TOTALS :