I am outdoors in “my office” without walls. There is a light breeze moving my sandy colored hair over my mouth. The sun is warm on my face. My blue framed glasses are black because I am outdoors. The sound of cicadas fill my ears. In the distance highway noise can be heard. The leaves are rustling on the trees. The sound of a vacuum is coming from down the street. The sky is splattered with clouds. A single black buzzard circles above me. A crow caws from a tree. Through the trees and on the other side of the railroad tracks, a rooster crows.
Dust flies up from the road as a gray four door car drives past me. There is the sound of a backhoe running. A long train of oil barrels clackety-clack down the railroad tracks. A dilapidated treehouse hangs from a branch of a strong, tall Elm tree. To the left of me is a field that holds five llamas and a single black stallion. In the center of the field is a pond.
The air smells fresh and crisp.