![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Nov. 15th, 2005 08:00 amI like snapdragons...
...evidently I'm not the only one!
...evidently I'm not the only one!
Nov. 15th, 2005
I just can’t bring myself to work today. My entire psyche is elsewhere, having some quality me time. I’ve just been so busy and could really use a day or two on my own: walking, taking photographs and watching the world pass by.
There’s a flower behind my ear today: a white frangipanni that smells like summer evenings and the breeze before a storm. Coming down the stairs just a minute ago I paused to watch - out the window – a female wood duck sitting atop an air-conditioning condenser on the roof, enjoying the view like she was queen of the castle.
The office is crouching stealthily today in unusual quiet and I’m listening to a phone conversation three desks away. My supervisor is out of town: gone to Sydney to watch Australia play Uruguay and an unfamiliar peace has settled on the place. The lull feels like a lucid dream and I’m floating through it.
There’s a stone on my desk collected from a river-worn cliff on the Derwent. It feels smooth and ancient in my hand, and smells of incense from the box I used to keep it in. In December I’ll go back there to listen to the tides and think a little.
There’s a flower behind my ear today: a white frangipanni that smells like summer evenings and the breeze before a storm. Coming down the stairs just a minute ago I paused to watch - out the window – a female wood duck sitting atop an air-conditioning condenser on the roof, enjoying the view like she was queen of the castle.
The office is crouching stealthily today in unusual quiet and I’m listening to a phone conversation three desks away. My supervisor is out of town: gone to Sydney to watch Australia play Uruguay and an unfamiliar peace has settled on the place. The lull feels like a lucid dream and I’m floating through it.
There’s a stone on my desk collected from a river-worn cliff on the Derwent. It feels smooth and ancient in my hand, and smells of incense from the box I used to keep it in. In December I’ll go back there to listen to the tides and think a little.