The television is on but in a different position.
Instead of upper left, it is behind me to the right.
The sound is still good, but in an unfamiliar place.
The computer screen remains the same but with more light than in the dank Mansland.
Then it happens.
Midnight has arrived and the realization that no one will come in and stop the writing or thought process or music or the volume.
Looking up at the time recorders and the manger scene, I realize that this is the space that only we create for ourselves.
A simple table filled with a cup of pens and markers, staplers, tape, notebooks, envelopes… very foreign yet familiar.
I close my eyes and place my headphones on to listen to strange sounds and no one stops me.
Is this freedom or has the camera run out of film.
The trunk is in the house.