In a tiny fragment of dream I was in a Chinese garden; there was orange blossom in the air, and orange flowers bright against the laquered fences, newly washed and shining. The wisdom of the gardener was greatly respected by the Empress who saw the world in her garden. There was danger and trouble somewhere, but not in the garden; and so, perhaps she didn't knew what she was doing when she took the gardener from her garden and sent him away on a mission of utmost importance and secrecy; or perhaps some other fate was reaching out to him from a distant land, taking him away to a world of troubles, and an old man, posessed equally of wisdom and weakness, alone and dying.
I got up, feeling aggrieved to have to miss a story which had started with such promise, for the sake of my miserable job, my fragrant workmate, and FoxFM.
But, on the bright side, I just finished my Unit Plan and my bribe list just got massively more huge. Golly.