The sound of a woman running late, running in high heels with no rhythm in her walk. The sound of a wheel in need of oil, as part of a tired carrier bag, ready to retire. The sound of a lady talking to her hand, Hello? Somebody there? The other end seems to respond, for she is smiling as if she were talking to a friend.
These are some of the things I've noticed while marching from one end of Seoul Station to the other. What was I thinking, working late after working an eight-hour shift on a Tuesday. Well, it's my own free will. The mission was to find a substitute office space, a public desk in form of a quiet cafe with wifi and a plug.
Preferably bright with mellow tunes and not too soft seating. Of course, I'm asking too much, about five ridiculous conditions too much. I ended up in a regular coffee house. I ordered a black coffee and a croque monsieur. The girl at the counter practiced the name into her fist several times before she asked me for confirmation on my order. And I kept thinking, maybe working at home woulnd't have been that bad after all.
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