From the back of the file cabinet

 

There are some mornings my coffee feels so warm and smells so flavorful that I’d like to quietly slip over the edge of the mug and float around as if it were a secluded swimming hole.

It has occurred to me just now that my house has no peripheral vision.  I have, of course, windows facing our direction of travel, but should a pirate ship appear along side we’d be quite vulnerable.

To the untrained eye, my office appears clean and orderly, yet sitting here I can’t help but notice the network of wires and cables busily carrying a blur of pixels north and south, this way and that.  I am happy they are no louder than a pencil.

The slight breeze might as well have been a hurricane.  Delicate flowers hanging from weak stems danced in the wind while a butterfly, having no weight at all, attempts to precisely land.