Two people got off on that floor.
That guy in black (I was eyeing) and I.
He drew out a swank swipe card from his wallet, and seamlessly swiped himself in.
He worked in Ogilvy in some capacity then? (Ah)
[ So much to my consternation, I finally realised that he was no mind-reader after all.
That he'd pressed the button 8 because he happened to work in Ogilvy himself! (Sigh) ]
Anyhow, after he (read: distraction) was gone, I kept standing at the entrance facade alone.
Swallowing in every detail of the place.
One nook at a time.
I saw the sparkling glass door, through which the entire 8th floor was visible.
[ The floor peopled by the 'Creatives' ]
Brick walls. Vibrant terminals.
With interesting knick-knacks and articles.
Ash coloured AC exhausts upstairs, resembling giant, plum cigars.
Walls and pillars peppered with sharp lines.
Cages of glass on the right, inhabited by the hummers of the ad world.
The space had quite the personality, you know.
The perfect heart-winning kind.
Plus having been designed with two of the most dramatic colours – Black and Red – very Wall-Streetish, it was.
And to top it all, there was a bit of writing at the entrance, which read something like this:
"Inside - Eccentrics, rebels, rule breakers, freaks, non-conformists, radicals, psychos, loonies, weirdos, oddballs, whackos, back-benchers, gate crashers, hippies, outcasts, dopies, madcaps, homo [sapiens], anti-establishment elements, homeless daredevils."
So yes.
Having read that.
Having read that.
Now you get the drift...
i likey.........
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