At work, after rain
May 26, 2011 § Leave a comment
From where the desk is positioned, there’s a view down the side of the building next door, where some of the big sash windows are lit from within whilst others are blinded by grey venetian blinds. The rain stopped maybe twenty minutes ago, but still anyone walking by is hunched and shuffling, as if they might be bracing themselves against the glancing blow of a sudden downpour. It’s been one of those days: always poised, no space for relaxation.
It hadn’t been the meeting itself; no, it was the ripples that emanated, the whispered conversations in corridors, the sudden silences, computer windows closed down at the sound of footsteps approaching. Even now, when everything has seemingly been revealed, those ripples continue, stopping here, returning there – no longer clear in source, whether rain above, life below, or some impossible recurrence of that first stone flung.
It is late, and you should be heading home like everyone else has done, but instead you find yourself staring at those windows, at the buildings reflecting one another, and you start to wonder how it is that what seems at first glance to be about transparency and clarity, in fact creates an endlessly refracting cage where nothing seems tangible any more; everything is mere perception, distorting and reforming constantly.