Cross Cultural Bridges

By Anonymous.

Pressured to stay in the office overtime, I escape finally around 11pm so that I won’ t miss the last t rain home. I make my way back to my sorry home base past midnight and then drop onto the bed. Next to the bed stands my shiny guitar I bought with my bonus salary 5 months ago. I’ve barely touched it. I try to fall asleep dreaming someday I’ll be playing the guitar in front of thousands of my imaginary fans.