A Point of View
Devon regularly ended his shift up on the roof terrace welcoming the day with a large Screwdriver – the last cocktail of the shift. Having over seen the main tasks of the night he felt comfortable in leaving his team to finish off the wrap up in preparation for the next shift. It was an unspoken understanding – he expected time alone to unwind.
The skyline had changed constantly in the five years he had been working at The Beehive. In the early days he could sit and plan his escape across the roofs. A game he played when he felt boxed in. He had plans and in order for him to set them in motion he required a healthy bank balance. The bank balance was dependant upon regular work. Press the green button to start -please keep to the right and hold handrail.
Watching the cranes perform their slow dance across a sky streaked with dream remnants soothed him. They reassured him that the horizon was bigger than the view from this roof terrace. Ironically the view that set his mind free was beginning to close in – they would soon lose sight of each other. He knew that one day he would come out onto the roof and be met with a wall of towering buildings-they would represent a dream realised by some. Their horizon limited to an area measured in metres squared. He wanted his to be free of limitations.
He picked out a spot in the distance-far beyond the cranes. This was his marker. Once it was obscured he would pack up everything, drink his last cocktail on that particular roof terrace and step out beyond the city limits.