Dear Agora: You have us spellbound. So much so that we will risk breaking our neck on your steep staircase and pay a little more than we should for that Greek coffee whatchamacallit or that Shiner Bock. But we will do this because you kick ass. We love your warm, woody interior. We love your belly dancers on Wednesday nights. We love your wine selection. We love pretending we're in some old-world European haunt when we smoke our cigs and lean against your upstairs railing. You're unlike any other coffeehouse we know, Agora. And we're not just saying that so we can taste your baklava.