Waking is a simple displeasure. Did I sleep at all? Did I wake into the same evening?

Tired. Move. Coffee.

Stand idly at the window for the drip filter to do its magic. A magic that would bore children to death. A slow bubble that may as well be the passing of centuries. All while staring at the view. Serene. Simple. Tungsten in colour. A car…..someone else exists. Was that a person. No. Just a passing gull aiming for breakfast. Alone again.

Lydia, sitting quietly in the lounge area. Hoping her mac doesn't turn off. She left her power cable at the studio.

Sitting quietly. Drinking coffee. Exchanging words that feel prophetic at this time of the morning, but when evening slips into daytime so easily, conversations about what makes a human being human beings seems a good way to pass the time. Human beings. We are rarely that. We are humans existing right now. We wish we could be more. But we’re not. It’s 9am.

It’s already exhausting.

This could be me being hugged by my girlfriend in Vanuatu. However, it's not me, she's not my girlfriend and I am not in Vanuatu. But then again, the contestants on Survivor weren't here either.