Clutter

My desk clutter moves in waves. Things come and go and get around. People pass by over and over again, some stop for a while, some more often than others. Work is a mess occasionally, but it works itself out eventually. The mundane, the stress filled, and the exciting continue with its ebb and flow. I float along, I roam about, I sit and wait and stare.

I am fixed on an image which seems to be staring back. A motionless void of either hope or misery.