Gray Streets

The skies outside my window are cloudy, as they often have been lately. It's the rainy season, and so when the wind picks up, the rainclouds come rolling in and execute their sole duty, dropping water from the sky. The colors of the city turn to various shades of gray, places where there are usually spurts of color and life, spoiled by the rays of the bright sun. The tones of the buildings, the sidewalks, and the people merge into variations of gray, blue and the like.

Although the city is located in a tropical area, it is cold inside the building, because of the high-level air-conditioning. The temprature is accentuated by the devoidness of color from outside, and I have to turn on my purposely yellow-colored lamps in my room to give a bit of passion to the walls and furniture. It does a better job than the default fluorescent lighting, which gives everything the whim of inanimaty.

No sounds are coming out of the computer speakers other than new email notifications, nor to I intend to rectify that. Somehow the sombre mood needs to stay in place, and it is ideally accompanied by the sound of silence (plus of course, the standard office background noise).

Through my window, I see the endless stream of traffic, seemingly part of another reality, as when I'm in that stream of traffic, I hear the horns, I feel the heat, and I sense the frustration of the drivers who feel they are never getting where they want to be. I cannot see the drivers now, I feel cold, and I only hear the movement of air from the air-conditioning blower. A new reality sets in, detached from the pressures of ground level.

But what is reality if the facts change time to time? With or without sunlight today, well maybe a little, does the world really seem that strikingly different? Are the colors really faded out, or do my eyes refuse to see their actual colors?

I'm getting up, and I'm making myself a warm cup of hot chocolate, as I have not had breakfast. A little warmth would do.