Status Updates From Honourable Schoolboy

The day was uncommonly hot for autumn. Rich shafts of sunlight poured on to the representational carpet, and the dust-specks played in them like tiny tropical fish.

Le Carré's poetics of the workspace

I had totally forgotten that I tried to read this when I was about 13 and never made it past the annoying opening scene with the drunken reporters doing antics like characters from Joseph Wambaugh's Choir Boys transported into a Graham Greene novel. It felt fake then and still does.

Soon the gloom of the place seemed to work itself into the fabric of his face, like dust into the complexion of a prisoner.

(Strikes me as a fitting observation on the eve of returning to the workplace ;)