Referring to trays in this context is probably quaint and anachronistic. It been donkey’s years since I worked in an office.
In a symbolic sense however, I can still see many of my colleagues faces, from those days.
Some faces were fresh and were new arrivals in the ‘in tray’ of life. Others were possibly in the Indian summers of their cycles as workers.
Most of these people had more interesting lives away from work. They showed up to keep the cogs and wheels turning, but the work wasn’t a calling or vocation, by any stretch of the imagination.
Does the life of a romantic soul have more colour? If one assumes this is the case, can this notion be taken for granted?
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