As I sit staring at the monotonous blue glare of my broken computer screen, my mind can’t help but drift to the furthest corners of the room in search of something better with which to occupy its time. My imagination has always been somewhat overzealous, and each new item it encounters sparks another story that must be put to paper, or acted out in a series of short scenes inside my head.
Its bright gaze drifts over the statue that sits atop a pile of over-read books. The brass bends and twists to create a sort-of Art Deco heart that watched over my room with an eye in the crevice between the two ovals of its face.
My mind is drawn into this ever-watching eye and the beiges and lilacs of my room disappear into a different world: that of my imagination. The colours change every time. I am surrounded by a mash of colour that slowly unfolds into a deep blue night. Below me sits a girl with long flowing hair at a white viny table against a city backdrop. The lights of the city peek through their windows.