As I sit in front of my glowing screen, my mind wanders. The small insignificant sounds of an office are overshadowed by the fantasy world my mind has escaped too. I keep working but I am not truly here. The running water of a tap becomes a spring somewhere in the distance. The bright florescent lights become a tireless and cruel sun. The soft padded chair is now a horse, sounds of my typing its hooves.
My insides tremble at the thought of ever-looming adventure. My heart jumps at the thought of riding into battle. Narnia, Midle Earth, Pern, or Eberron, they all call to me and in the doldrums hours between arriving and leaving I answer. I do not waste time, I invest it. I do not dream, I travel! I do not imagine, I create! And at the end of the day, I am no more or less sane then before.
My cubicle is not my jail cell; it is the repository for my body.