A sense

It’s been a funny old week. I’ve been about 97% in this world and about 3% on another plain entirely. I’ve been here but not left any evidence. Until today.

Next week I’ll be elsewhere until Wednesday. There are things to say and things to do but all in good time. The smog hangs low in the air today. I almost gasped for air as I exited my motor-car this morning. I can’t really complain since I was evidently contributing to the thick sulphurous haze. Outside my office on the ground below they are installing electric door so the disabled can get in and out easily. A range of smells has wafted up through my open window as the day has progressed. Firstly the familiar stench of burning diesel that generators emit infiltrated my nose. By lunchtime the lush smell of freshly cut wood and now that the fog has lifted the faint scent of an approaching spring tugs at my senses and beckons me to retire for the weekend.

Tomorrow we will have phones in every room and the floodgates for communication will open. I still wonder if this Internet thing will catch on before it sends me into self-destruct. A meaningful conversation at the local boozer left me questioning my career aspirations once more. With the passing of this week I wonder how you will find me in the next. For now, over.