06:55, on a September morning which makes me doubt for the first time in four months whether I should wear a jacket or not. Nah, today is a t-shirt day. I sit in the train, surrounded by grumpy looking people, and I am sure I look just as grumpy. I don’t like that. I change it. I am in a train, learning with my head, on my way to learn with my hands. I am tired, yet it feels good. It feels good to hear an alarm, it feels good to sip steaming coffee with puffy eyes. All I can think is: it’s nothing special, you are going to work, just like the rest of the world. Yet after spending years and years trying not to be like the rest of the world, I now welcome it. Hell, I more than welcome it. I offer it something to drink, dinner to eat, I roll out a red carpet for it, I…Well, you get the idea. 7:05 now. On my way to yet another photo studio. But I am not the model today, I am the assistant of the assistant of the photographer. And I am reading, not another whodunnit pageturner, but about the psychological development of my future nephew. How about that.