Sunlight trickles through the vertical spaces, forming symmetrical lines all over my desk. The clouds aptly shade the sun for a brief moment providing an illusion of cool when in fact the temperatures soar upwards of 30 in the outdoors. But I am unfazed in my climate controlled comfort zone of a constant 20.
Noise levels are kept to a minimum, construction has all but halted here as the workers regroup at the old place, working on the roof there instead. The dogs are quiet as well, with nothing interesting to see, nor bark about. Thus they lie motionless like bags of potatoes on a lazy day.
It feels like a Sunday, although everyday feels like it. Nothing changes if you're always in the same place doing the same thing, after a while you lose track of day, week, or month. Of course you can't possibly lose track of time since you have a watch, that would be dumb. Life still follows schedule, and the rushing is kept in check. If there are more things to rush, then perhaps it would feel like a Monday.
I just need to take a break even though it feels like I am having a break. I need to get out of here. This place. I need this place to be done once and for all so I dont have to deal with people. So I can just take off and be someplace else. I need to get to Sydney.
