slow sunday morning xvi

Good afternoon. It's 5:13pm, and I'm back in the studio. It almost feels like I never left the way they whip you back into shape here. My roommate and I had quite a languorous lunch earlier today consisting of cafeteria ramen and a cold latte each. Our lunches are always like this, even if we've got places to be and things to do. Conversation about whatever project we're suffering on, whatever political state our country is suffering in, whatever unimpressive plans we have for the day, all interjected with bouts of people-watching and coffee sipping. There's a few regulars we like to spy on, a few infamous spottings (like a man with a mountain of spinach, no dressing, no nothing, or another with 8 fried eggs in a pile. What do you need all that for?), or simply enjoying a little silence in numbers. Upon our return, I gave her a quick rundown of what my idea for our current assignment is looking like so far. One thing I've begun to understand about my architectural language is that…