From out of nowhere these offices sprang. They confuse me every day. I've been looking for a place where strangers lived, where children used to play. I was looking for something different to this but it seems it's all the same, every change identical, distinct only in name. Wherever I tread is overtrod, a moment mine to catch but I'm thinking things that you've all thought and I hoped for more than that.
I was hoping osmosis would be my friend but I think I put her off by hanging around, outstayed my welcome. She doesn't like me very much. Everyone else is indifferent, they just go about their jobs and charge from corner to crossroads, a suspicion their time was robbed. When I hunt for culture or character, I find I peer to close. I'm staring at trees and wondering why, a narrow view at most.
I read that Dickens once walked this street or was it maybe Holmes? Was it neither? I couldn't be sure when or whether each once roamed. I read that we will walk this street just until the plans are passed. Then the street will be slightly brighter, that year than the last.