Origin Way. Summer. June. 17.20 hours. Friday evening.
A perpetual backdrop of scowling traffic ebbed and flowed along its A180 tributary.
The latest intake of notional students lolled around on the red sun-baked paving of Origin Way.
Europarc nine to fivers began exiting the site for a weekend of prescribed leisure whilst security guards, process workers and cleaning operatives remained in situ.
X registered a moment of sublimation as a crow hopped from one lamp post to the next.
The lights transformed from dim grey glow to an illuminated orange as the fowl of the air landed upon each pedestal.
A dyed blonde-haired woman in her early thirties drove past.
She lit a post-work cigarette upon exiting Origin Way.
X lurked among the carefully tended shrubbery – it’s gaze gently resting upon an empty glass balancing on a steel bollard.
The fresh-faced students continued to bathe in a collective subconscious haze.
