When a day begins in the middle of a three and a half hour long phone conversation that will be remembered for a month, you know it will be a good day in spite of itself.
Nine hour workdays would not be so bad if you could spend them all reading SPOON when the boss is in the room and spend the rest of the time with your head pillowed on your arm with drool dripping onto your sleeve and your mind somewhere and somewhen that your body cannot follow.
Even an hour and a half of drawing and a slightly painful site visit can be offset by a walk to the park, a child in the grass, a squirrel in a tree, and a soothsayer in your face offering to tell your future.
And when it is set in conjunction with a letter you carried around just so you could post it in public, and ended up handing to the man in the mail van just as the afternoon pick-up was to be effected, then you know the day is one for the history books.
I could have done without the people, though. Everywhere I went yesterday, I saw them. There was a time I could be sure to surprise a pleasant reply out of a stranger on the street with a smile and a secret, but suddenly every time I step out of the house all the faces I see are closed, and all the eyes I glance into are dead. Perhaps being away for too long has removed people from the background, but I cannot ever remember so many missing persons wandering my city.
Traffic was a nightmare and lunchtime was heartbreak and the park burned at me till the soothsayer came by.
It weighs heavy.
Does having more humans mean less humanity for each?
Nine hour workdays would not be so bad if you could spend them all reading SPOON when the boss is in the room and spend the rest of the time with your head pillowed on your arm with drool dripping onto your sleeve and your mind somewhere and somewhen that your body cannot follow.
Even an hour and a half of drawing and a slightly painful site visit can be offset by a walk to the park, a child in the grass, a squirrel in a tree, and a soothsayer in your face offering to tell your future.
And when it is set in conjunction with a letter you carried around just so you could post it in public, and ended up handing to the man in the mail van just as the afternoon pick-up was to be effected, then you know the day is one for the history books.
I could have done without the people, though. Everywhere I went yesterday, I saw them. There was a time I could be sure to surprise a pleasant reply out of a stranger on the street with a smile and a secret, but suddenly every time I step out of the house all the faces I see are closed, and all the eyes I glance into are dead. Perhaps being away for too long has removed people from the background, but I cannot ever remember so many missing persons wandering my city.
Traffic was a nightmare and lunchtime was heartbreak and the park burned at me till the soothsayer came by.
It weighs heavy.
Does having more humans mean less humanity for each?
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