Magnetic Stamp

In theory I am against the notion of opting for a Stabucks in foreign fields.  In amongst a wealth of difference and diversity why is it that I breathe a deep sign of relief when I see that Rapunzel locked emblem in the distance?  I reach for the familiar, a brief respite from the confusion and disorientation.  I wander the streets and piece together my sparse lingo, not recognising any sign or any sight. 

So when I see that green stamp marking the street corner I retreat, and nurse that sturdy mug that is filled with warmth and comfort.  I watch the passing faces through the barrier which dangles me in limbo between home and away.