I’m holding my fingers in my fingers and staring out of the window to see a lady of the day in a short skirt, and realising that it’s warmer where she is standing outside than where I am standing inside - not that I wish to swap places. The sun hits that spot on the street at some point in the afternoon, but it doesn’t penetrate the Archive (so to speak). The sun does tempt the windows at the back in the late afternoon, and the front room earlier, but it’s winter sun and despite a boiling-ball of heat in the sky, it’s not warming the inside beyond the windows, hence the chill.
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