It is always silent here, no matter what time of the day. Hardly anyone talks. From the pantry behind me, there emerges humming sounds of the rattling microwave and clattering spoons in the backdrop of water falling into the sink. The fragrance of home-cooked pasta floats in the air. Some of the team are away at the gym across the road. The demolition cranes are pecking away at concrete slabs from the building (it should be called demolish-ing) next door. As usual, there is the lady eating cereal for lunch because apparently she does not get paid enough. The photocopier is spitting out toasty sheets of documents. The lunch box is slowly emptied and satisfaction fills up. Suddenly work seems irrelevant.
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