My mother is a kettle of tea. There is no routine for tea in my eerily serene home. It is simply spontaneous, but lovely. The boiling city juice isn’t as alarming as it is often mistaken to be. Instead, it creates a steam that delivers warmth throughout the cold home. The flavours range from a lulling chamomile to an eccentric spice dragon. Today’s flavour is earl grey. The ambiance is filled with the delicate fragrance as the teabag is submerged into the water. The deep orange seeps out from the bag in a psychedelic dance, overpowering the bland purity. The taste is tranquil and strong, and it reminds me of summer.