thisisnota.business.blog

I’m not made of concrete (Cost of living crisis) Sitting at my desk. I deem the column in front of me hollow, Lacking concrete. Perhaps it is the cold sensation coming out from it, Or the mould around it that gives it that eerie touch. These four walls have yet to fool me. I work…

A runner sits on the hospital’s garden bench, And hears a woman battling off the hospital staff, ‘Not again,’ ‘Get off!’ All the yelling was coming from the top floor mental health ward. The runner stayed vicariously fighting restraints nonexistent to her. A butterfly stood next to her, Practicing the art of minding its own…

Like a sheepdog, I herd those away from me, in Spanish:‘Are you visiting ‘X’ today?’‘And ‘Y’ and ‘Z’ How are they?’‘The Queen died today,’ I said.My friend in Colombia told me that day.‘There are going to be memes.’They said. I went to a party; later on that week.In which coke head broke an ‘I Eat…

I’m tired.Another interview, another day.‘We need to give our emails a human touch,’Said my manager today.Recruiters and things are hard to keep up with.And that is the most human shit I can say.