Construction continues apace. Even from behind my double paned glass windows I can hear the low, muted purr of straining engines, the occasional reverberating cascade of heavy rocks falling for the first time onto the empty flatbed of a truck, the high pitched whirr of some machine calling out mutedly like a lost kid for its mother. Occasionally, there will be a moment of silence that serves only to emphasize the low and constant rush of the nearly inaudible wind that thrums about my building, and then it all picks up once more.
I overlaid today’s picture over yesterday’s, and played with the translucency so as to be able to determine how much earth they’ve shifted. It’s not a dramatic amount when viewed in these compact shots, but I think they’re moving some 30 meters by 4 meters by 4 meters/day. Which is an incredible amount of dirt. My question is: where does it all go?
Today, as you can tell from the shot, is overcast and dingy, though there are surprisingly spacious amounts of cerulean blue hovering between the low lying clouds. Perhaps it will clear up towards the afternoon? I’m sitting on my living room floor with a cup of coffee, trying to summon the will to contact vendors and get price quotes for our next promo mailing, but the enthusiasm is not quite coalescing at the moment. I’d much rather go read some Proust, or browse some poetry, or make something out of melted chocolate. Ah well. Such is the working man’s life.
Btw: Russian chocolate is dark, light, and fabulous. At least the bar I partially consumed last night was. That aerated kind that goes down a treat.
Bookwise: more Proust. I’ll throw something up onto the Proust blog about my impressions of the Verdurins and their ‘little group’ later on today!