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Everyday Work by Beverley Obasuyi

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The AJ Writing Prize 2014: Entry

The magical adventure begins just before 9am with an unusual illusion. The easy glide of what looks like a colossal mineralised metallic door stands 9 feet tall above me, like giants protecting me from the busy and unruly Monday morning rush. I step bravely through the gigantic threshold and suddenly I feel content.

The proportions are comfortable to say the least, unlike the squeeze on the central line. The compositions of wood, glass, concrete and white, with hints of light teal, are perfect for my mood. Directly in front of me is the famous glass bridge, which looks almost fairly tale-like as it persuades me to take its route, where your view looks down into the double height atrium crit space. Nonetheless, to the left of the glass bridge lays the concrete staircase. Detailed to perfection like the back of an old mans spine. Its deep voice whispers for me to adventure below ground. I object and feel brave today, my feet hesitantly compress the green or blue or maybe green opaque glass bridge as I walk into a new space, much lighter than before.  

This is the café. A multi-purpose space. Light floods through the skylight bouncing off the wooden floors and back onto the white walls. This space shouldn’t be confused with another. As like flock people begin to gather around to watch the Monday meeting projected onto the white wall at the back of this airy and warm environment I call work.

As the meeting comes to a close I walk though the colonnade and can hear multiple computer hard drives spinning as their weekend break is also now over. The grey-carpeted walkway leads me through the office and onto a brief moment of wood. This designates the gallery and the second of the pair of concrete old men and blue or green glass bridges.

I walk to my white never ending long desk, like Alice’s tea party, and replicate the hard drive spinning at 100mph. I have Siamese twin screen and can smell the coffee lurking in the air. The buzz has begun. Its an open plan office, but I like that, so I can hear what Julie got up to last weekend at Chads.

The detailing is impeccable. Being the observant person I am, I look for faults but find none, even the ceiling is designed by an adroit designer. The crafting of what would usually be a binary opposition works so well. The warm wood vs the cold steel. The white walls against the black computing technology. The floor to ceiling glass windows set the picturesque view of the old building adjacent. It isn’t fussy nor does it shout “look at me!” like some do with much bravado. It is a meticulous yet calming environment.

When its time to leave this journey, the giant mineralised doors wish me luck as I head back into the cramped and busy rush hour, awaiting my adventure tomorrow.

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