In the distance the bells from the schools that bookend the park signaling the start of the day, while I'm heading off towards the city bus for adventures yet to be had. Or in this case, as I sit at work, have already had and are now resting in the back of my mind as a memory of freedom almost forgotten.

Right now I'd rather be in a park, reading a book with cigarette in hand. Stopping every once in awhile to breathe deep the smell of dying grass under the autumn morning sun. Maybe write a line or two about how this amuses me in some way, then return to the text, putting one foot into someone else's world while the rest of me basks in the chill fall breeze.