He picks up where most of us leave off. Even though his neck tie is always neat and his hat is always proud, trailing shirt tails languish absently by the his rear. He swaddles his Eliot under his pit, allowing his glasses to slowly dip towards the tip of his bulbous, purple nose, as he aimlessly admires "The Wasteland" again. A saucer moon, bright as his spit polished shoes, divides his station into bland shadows, while the bloom of the CCTV weeps into his spectacle lens. As the hours wander through the urge to rest his feet upon the desk overwhelms him, along with his 3am snooze. But the teas maid he bought himself for Christmas alarms him from his drowse so he can twitch with the larks over his morning brew while the dawn settles the argument. At 6am the city boys hustle past without a nod and at 8 the kids crash off to school oblivious. As the receptionist reclaims her throne, dusting away his crumbs with a poisonous leer, his night watch is done again and he shuffles off home to TV and civvies. No one noticed his absence the next evening, or the next, and only the teas-maid and the morning larks will miss him.
Rembrandt van Rijn, Dutch master painter, was born today in 1606.