I look out of the window and the only thing I see (ignoring of course Gogo's giant structure in the making) is a slice of the sky. It's been a long time since I looked out of the window to watch the moon at night. It's become a long lost privilege. And then I look again and am struck by the checkered math book view of Gogo's structure. Every floor has a different story to say. A further progression towards completion. The wooden framework for the doors are in place while the walls are interestingly lacking. The structure already seems to moan while the iron rods hold the ceilings up. The top floor seems like the 'blissfully ignorant' kid still reaching out for the sky, its little fingers (read ugly looking iron rods jutting out) stretched out.
The voices and the clammer are now a part of my (our?) living reality. A metal hitting another wakes me up. A drill usually gives me company during my morning ablutions. The JCB struggling to move its goliath figure within a narrow space of five feet (that's all the space there is between the two buildings) forms the event of the day in my uneventful-but-needs-to-finish-a-lot-of-work life.