11am and on. Sounds of the day haven't changed ever since early morning: Traffic on wet streets, electric tools operating on concrete and steel, temporary noises and scratches that rip through the flow of the call. Getting things done, in small chunks. As always.
(Close to 9am and turning on lights again trying to help a weak sun challenge this mornings grey. The house is waking to normal business, there's chatter on the staircase and some kids hurry for the next bus. Focussing on ones nose tip for a moment, counting breaths and then watching the rain.)
3pm, grey afternoon. Too: Staying away from news for good, just to by accident open a random browser on a remote customers machine. Follow-up: Meditations on rage and insanity. (Meanwhile, neighbours returned home and seem lost within the drowning pool of afternoon TV. Same same but different. Voices, way too loud. At least the images don't make it through the wall.)