The cubicle's sides are fabric and mottled medium grey. The rug, look!, is slightly darker mottled grey.

My eyes are hungry, but I don't hear it that way. I want salt; I want sugar; I want coffee.

Shouldn't a corner mean a chance of change? I look in the corner of the cubicle for something to be different where the two sides meet.

The common loon is covered in dark darks and light lights. It has a dark head and dark-and-light body feathers, patterned like a chessboard twisted psychedelically. The loon flies, swims and dives without regard to laws on break time.

My eyes are our eyes. Our eyes learned about seeing while looking at the thick ground of the rainforest and the twinkling canopy.

Work flat.

Working flat tends to make the Earth flat another way. Not make it not a sphere, but make the surface less thick with life.

Wetlands are easy, in a way, to fill and rainforests to cut down. Our sphere becomes more like cubicle sides meeting at the corner and less like a common loon, soaring up and soaring down and taking its own pattern along for the ride.