J-Patt's Blog

The building is tinted and irregular—a quadrilateral with uneven sides that seem slanted from afar until he walks closer to inspect it and finds that the window sizes are inconsistent and progressively smaller, making it appear to move farther away with each story upward. He notes the architecture’s frigidness; unabashed defiance to ergonomics. The doors are flush against the front, only hinted to by a thin frame that holds the hinges of the tinted doors with a horizontal sheet of grey metal across their centers. It is better that way, or cheaper at least—no need for flair on a construct so strange. An engraving against the sheets of metal read “push,” with carvings of hands on either side of the word. He does not want to push it. He does not want to feel the coldness of metal against palms even if it is well polished and without noticeable damage. He does not want to know what is inside the building, though he wonders how the light passing through the tinted windows colors the lobby and if the people sitting in the waiting area can still read their newspapers that tell them how good we are.