The more you know about coffee, the more obvious it becomes that you know nothing. Grind finer. Grind coarser. Pour faster. Pour slower. Measure everything. Trust the vibes. The coffee is perfect. The coffee is fucked. Somewhere between 1.33 and 6.66 TDS lies the unknowable truth. We are stardust with gooseneck kettles, briefly swirling hot water over tiny brown seeds on a rock hurtling through infinite space. The universe expands. The bloom rises. The coffee cools. The grinder drifts. Nothing is permanent except somehow needing another grinder. Drink deeply. Fuck it up. Try again. Such is the duality of the brewer.