Some time ago I saw a girl on a street of Central London. She was young and pretty, wearing stilettos and a pencil skirt, her hair was flawless. She was rushing from one office building to another, holding some documents and not looking at anything around her.
For a moment I thought that I want to be her. Young, beautiful, successful, knowing what she wants to do with her life.
And then another thought came to my mind. Probably behind this nice façade there is a person that wants to have flexible working hours, wants to be able to wear jeans and flats, wants to sleep in the morning instead of putting on her sophisticated make-up and doing her hair. Probably she wants to be me.
Probably not. But this thought made me feel very comfortable for some reason.
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