The Makeshift Office

This particular post goes out to those who thinks i am working from a cardboard box at a third world dumpster, with flies as colleagues and stray cats as tea lady. Minuscule as this production might be, we do indeed operate from a proper space with real tables, permanent walls and functioning windows.

Though, admittedly, it might not be the cheery on the pudding, but its nothing less of a reverie, for where it lack in its modern day attitude, it gain in its character. Never have i seen a more inviting square block of room in my twenty-two years of living. Yes, you hear it right, twenty-two, for i'm allowed to throw out a few years because of rotten birthday parties. It’s only logical. Anyhow...

It’s pretty hard to put into writing how my dainty little workplace looks like. It had no park, but the pleasure-grounds were tolerably extensive; it had its open courtyard and closer wood walk steps that led to the first floor landing where my office lies. The structure itself was under the guardianship of a shady lane with close knitted neighbors and every evening before the twilight settle into nightfall, a symphony of swallows would recite its playful tune to its anonymous listener.