It’s Saturday late afternoon. I know this because of the calendar on the computer, the needles on my watch. The box is devoid of natural light for there are no windows in the economics department. I like it, sometimes. It’s quiet. When you sit still and listen, there is a dull throb of florescent light bulbs, the humming on the computers from the computer lab. Death silence in a bustling city. By now the rain has probably begun. I know this because of the computer, its feels like it’s raining. There are no windows.

The last several hours have been a myriad of numbers and equations filling the cervices of memory. As if a hard drive is de-fragmented for extra space. None of it stays really for very long. It slips away silently as the eyes move on to other things. Somehow, someway, they will seem more and more familiar as they are looked upon. Eventually understanding will dawn, and the miracle will occur. The hand writes and copies, the eyes stare empty. There is no thought, but eventually it will come.
You can lose yourself for days, hours, weeks in a place like this. During the day there are bodies in this place. There is noise and laughter and frustration and joy. There is anger and love and smiles and frowns. But in the end there is only ME. I move through the dimly lit halls searching for a way to make it all happen. I gain inspiration in this windowless box. Lost somewhere within the walls of a building, right in the center of it, lies the road to enlightenment. It is in places like these that one can truly explore the nature of things. "I am moved by these fancies that are curled around these images and cling: the notion of some infinitely gentle infinitely suffering thing." But among the doors, the humming, the poor quality carpeting. Among the florescence, the musty smell, the books, the notes, the drama. Among the plastic, the blue, the conformity. "Words, words, words." "Numbers, numbers, numbers." Shall I go and memorize? Do I dare to try a proof? I shall write senseless things and walk along the corridors. I have seen professors working in the early hours of the morning. I do not think that they will speak to me.

When you find yourself alone. Lost in a small part of the world where no one will go to. When you are alone and thinking. You start wishing you can share it with someone special. But sooner or later reality reasserts itself, and I have to get back to studying.