The voices of my soul are silent and slaves to rain.
The morning papers have moved to a home of their own, but I'll keep a thumbnail in the sidebar.
If I am the first to arrive at work in the morning, I'm always reluctant to turn the ceiling lights on. Nothing more sterile than white, garish, fluorescent lights. I have an old lamp on my desk whose wiring is rather dodgy, that it almost works like one of those modern touch-lamps: *touch* (lamp turns on) *touch* (lamp turns off) *touch* (lamps stays off) *touch* *touch* *rattles* (lamp turns on). It gives off a nice yellow glow, especially when the day outside is grey, colourless and wet.
Posted by sniffles at April 15, 2003 08:46 AM