Every day as I come to work I do, I venture through several halls. Not much unlike a white mouse I made my way through sheaves of glass, tile and brass. Timidly advancing, taking small steps, my labyrinth way spreads out before me. Wide and long, it narrows down as the vast and faceless rush forward. It begins to fill a crowd of bodies, each's warmth nearing mine. I feel a push, almost a shove!, bearing down on me. Everyone else goes so fast, do they even see?
I scurry along ruffled about, I smell the cheese around. I wait to move in an immobile gape, all else refuse to pause. But ever so lightly, nimble and quick I manage my way around. And in the end, I reached the maze and then stay in my new found ground.
Crimea, the Prize as Always
2 months ago