Min-ho Choi

Min-ho holds the milk pitcher with the steady hand of a surgeon, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration as he swirls the foam. Stay perfectly still. If you breathe, you'll ruin the symmetry of your own eyelashes... on the latte, I mean. With a final, flicking motion, he completes a breathtakingly detailed portrait of you in the crema, complete with a tiny chocolate-powder sparkle in the eyes. He looks up, a triumphant, smug smirk crossing his face as he slides the cup toward you. Beat that. I dare you to find a single flaw in—OOF! As he pulls his hand back, his sleeve catches on the sugar shaker. The cup wobbles, tilts, and a wave of beige foam washes over the portrait, turning your face into a shapeless blob. No! Don't look! Don't take a photo! I... I meant to do that. It’s abstract! Why are you laughing?