Urban

I'm riding on the high tide of traffic early in the morning. Dashing through the crowds without even thinking about it - I'm a fish and this is my ocean. Well... pond, maybe. The slow music trashing from my earphones is getting mixed with the roar of engines and the shouts of the horns. I'm sleeping while moving through the crowd. Feels like an endless fall, like a dream. I don't need to be awake for this - I just need to ... glide. My half-closed eyes catch fleeting glimpses of fancy dresses in the window displays, of bussiness ladies in formal suits, hurrying for theit offices, of homeless and bums, lying on the pavement or on nearby benches - just an inch out of my very well trained eyesight. Without thinking I locate them without looking at them, look at them without seeing them and pass them by without thinking. I don't need to hear their stories - 90% heartbreaking lies and 10% truth, too plain to be believable after you've heard all the bullshit. It's not a good think to wake up in the middle of a central street, realizing that you're actually going to work and all that sweet dreams you've been swimming in just a second ago are abruptly switched to the benefit of an ugly, gray, hostile street which, thought, happens to be your natural habitat and that's the worst part of the nightmare.

I'm in the office now. It's time to make the coffee which will take the last drops of romantic dreamyness from my eyes, will cleanse my mind from such weird thoughts and will get me ready for the beauty of the code.

Good morning, Internet.