For C.C....

....Perhaps if your chosen route to work today happened to have been the commute from the south west to the capital city you might have experienced similar things as I.

Routine is quite possibly the most dull side of life one could expose themselves to, though it holds a sense of safety and comfort, a little spontaneity perhaps wouldn't go amiss from time to time.

Seven o clock wake up call, nothing particularly strenuous but the journey ahead for the next two hours definitely holds it weight in strain.
Shower, dress, eat and drive.
A seven and a half minute ride to the station, goodbye guardian, hello familiar faces, Grey sky and washed out expressions, over the bridge to platform one, eight thirteen, take your place on the platform, that familiar place to match the familiar faces.
Find a seat, and relax. From here on out one has an hour to sit, to indulge in a book, to listen to the current soundtrack that reflects your position in life or even just just watch the world as it passes by in a underexposed blur.

Pulling in to the final destination, and those desperate people, [the ones you find on any public transport, mainly planes] that stand up and block the aisles before the doors have even opened, in avid anticipation to leave the carriage/shuttle/cabin.
Out of the doors, with the greeting of a damp, heavy, dark and grim scented air, one descends the stairs to the underground and becomes the minnow in the ocean of filth, lost hope and desire.

The first mistake, to pick up the Metro, a free london paper, provided by the kind hearted people of the daily express.
Though one could hardly call it a paper, more so an obituary, a collection of death stories and other unpleasantness that does wonders for enlightening the mind in the pleasant surroundings of the London Underground system...

Its safe to say that despite this daily feed of misery I am yet to deny a morning of reading up on current affairs.

After being informed of how humans continue to rape the earth of just about everything it has ever had to offer and the less-than-excrement beings, that find it acceptable to Murder on primitive instinct and feel no remorse, I leave the over ground train at High street Kensington and make for the stairs, through the barriers and straight in to view of a Giant orange handing out baby oranges, promoting 'Fruity Friday'

Now this was a breath of fresh air for me, The lighthearted comedy factor of an oversized fruit and its small team of minions, shouting at the tops of their lungs first thing on a bleak Friday morning.
I most definitely took full advantage of the offer, helping myself to a very reasonably sized orange, which is currently positioned in front of me, waiting to be devoured for my lunch time dessert.

There is so much more that I wish to write about right now, but I really don't have the drive sadly.

The time will come, I have some plans to make things work.

We are the children of the revolution.

xo