I am back to work today, after a short holiday break. Monday was like a normal Monday and I barely felt the difference. It is as if I never had a holiday. Maybe they were too short, I am not sure. One often feels holidays are too short, yet it is nice to be back home and inaction, even pleasant one, can get boring after a while. My holidays were short enough so I would miss them and in the same time not feel rusty at work.
Not much has changed, but the colours on the tree by the window, which grew redder. Looking at it, I felt like I wouldn't mind working from home sometimes. But not this home, something a little bit more remote, an English cottage in the countryside or something like this, surrounded by more vegetation. I don't know why, I always thought I was a city dweller, yet these days I wonder how it would be to live in a little village.