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.
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