Quiet Morning
Today's a Wednesday, I'm in office at 9am. It's a ghost town in here, this small space we call home, where we discuss, exchange knowledge to better understand our prospects, this space, usually crowded and bombarded with friendly chaos and robust comraderie suddenly feels cold, yet peaceful. A hideaway from the bustle at the MRT station, where I was amongst the throngs of heels and branded bags, queuing lifelessly for the morning coffee, the salvation of (nearly) all 9 to Five-ers.
Speaking of throngs, what a major revelation I had, noticing the lady (or bitch, as you deem fit) in patent heels and a spankin' new mini fortune dangling lazily on her arm, her steadfast footsteps, all symbolic of the modern career woman, I realised how easily it was to buy into material obsessions of the majority. How easily it was to crave the finer things in life, just because others have it.