There is a display window on the ground floor. I toil there all day long.
– Nice shoes! – the crowd swoons. The encouragement spurs me on. I make another display.
– Nice smile! – the crowd concurs. That inspires my next display.
– What an intense gaze! – the crowd appreciates the cutting edge style.
When 7PM comes, I punch out, close the curtains and take the elevator to 77th floor to my private room. The room is small and dingy. There is nothing to occupy myself with so I sketch out ideas for the next day’s display.
Then I sleep.
In the morning I can barely wait till the teeth are brushed and breakfast eaten. At 7 AM I take the elevator to the ground floor and start to toil again.
The Regret Man knocks on the glass.
– You’ll regret not having spend more time with your family,- he says.
– What?! – I shout pretending I don’t hear him behind the glass. He always says the same thing. When I used to spend more time with my family he said I’d regret not having gone to New York to measure my ambitions.
The Passion Lady pushes him aside.
– How about some straying?- she says. – When was the last time you had your emotions exhilarated?
Last time I got my emotions exhilarated I got crabs so I show her with my fingers crabby moves. She back off.
Queen Depression descends with the twilight and without speeches tries to encase me. But I am already encased by my display window. She howls like a wind behind the glass, scaring me. I stop work and creep into a corner. It gets darker and darker. I whimper.
My Work Angel picks me up and gives me a flashlight.
– Never stop working unless you have to make new sketches, – he instructs me. – Your work is your fort. Leaving it for fear, passion or regret is like leaving the fort without army during a war.
Nota Bene: if something looks phallic in my drawings that’s meant to be. If you are compelled to analyze me, you are very welcome (lots of work to be done!), just don’t touch my phallic symbols. They are very sensitive.