Friday

A Friday is one great day to spend in the comfort of a completely deserted office floor and pretend that your living room has grown to a size you would ideally like it to be. Hmmm...as I stretch and start typing the random tumble of letters and words, I realize that I quite like it here. There are no prying eyes or a boisterous group, and in the soft glow of the evening, the place seems cozy.

I can wander around aimlessly, and just stare at the clouds from my sixth floor station and the distant flashes of lightning that grumble and growl. Threats of rain, and it really seems like its going to break out pretty soon, but I don't mind. Not today, I 'm happy.

Sometimes, all that it takes to give you that nice, easy feeling is something as trivial as a phone call. Everything looks up and better when you get to talk to someone you have been waiting for, the ritualistic eight hours of office or the traffic marred ride back to the house. Everything is at peace. Everything is perfectly beautiful. And you have an inwards smile.

Something inspires you to be better than you really are, nothing competitive, just a man who wants to improve. You want to read poetry, and wish and hope that someday you could write as beautifully as Cohen. Someday. Yet all you can do is listen to him.

Ah! The world is beautiful today.