Years and months pass. I find myself sitting in a cubicle. In the US. A great nation , a proud people , but I - A Speck , A dot. Populating a cubicle , with a few thumbtacks and yesterday's leftover coffee for company. A project , that's what I am here for , so says everyone....really ?
I don’t feel like working today. Its getting miserable, boring and I feel I am stuck in the wrong place, wrong job and the wrong time. The sun is shining outside, the world is turning and here I am stuck to a desk, waiting for something to emerge from the wash of time around me.
Some days the brain feels dead. It cannot plod on. Too many injustices done, the motivation plucked out, lying like a dead animal by the side. The effort is too much to even lift and deposit it in the bin.
People in a rush, in and out. It’s barely 4:00 PM. People at work, who rush to elevators with a sense of purpose, like a stream of muddy water gushing down the sink. Making gurgling sounds. To what end, God knows. Maybe impatient children to pick up, grouchy wives waiting at their workplaces, husbands car pooling. Whatever.
This is the kind of rush I see every day at work. People eddying around me like a strong current and I watch them move around me. I sit, like an unshapely stone in a river, fixed to the bedrock, but getting eroded all around. Generally by the time I overcome the inertia, its time for the housekeepers. Dusting, cleaning and wondering at the existence of the lone human in a vast building. Is he Man or Beast? Lurking suspiciously in the dim corridors like a Minor Minotaur.
But come to think of it ….I already feel better, I can feel the circulation back in my fingers. And I start feeling it in my legs now…. Maybe it’s my turn to run today. Yes, its 4:30 PM.
