floor to ceiling

>In the morning, I lie on the floor of my cube and do yoga poses. Lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling tiles, I find myself truly immersed in my thoughts for a fleeting moment. I breathe in and I breathe out. I try to examine my thoughts objectively and I often fail. I try to clear my mind of the swirling eddies of worry, of frantic obsession, of irrational feelings of inadequacy. On the floor, with my back flat against a hard surface, looking up and not around, I feel a brief few minutes of control out of a long weary day. I savor this one moment when I take off my own self-constructed target, deflecting for a few precious seconds the darts dipped in my own poison sap.

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  1. >i feel like there was something between this post and the run post. perhaps i was imagining? i can picture you in your little cube, and i imagine your legs sticking out between table legs and chair wheels, hands brushing against industrial waste baskets. sounds like fun.

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