Work during the day. Goof at night. During lunch, write; read; caffeinate.

Tuesday

Costellations, here, where there are no stars


The city deepens into blue and gold. The blue is the sky that shades from a pale a carnation to a navy blue. The gold is the window, forty floors up, away from me and among many others in a jagged pattern. Their yellow gains substance as the sun sets.

And I hardly notice. Its all become so very familiar.