The world of work beckons. Although I had always considered employment a kind of personal anathema, I have, and continue to give, my time and effort willingly for various volunteer causes. Why is it then that the thought of paid work produces in me a nervous sweat of such mental magnitude that I fall and stumble in my own dreams, horrified at the thought of bonded labour? Of course it is a juvenile and overgrown thought, as we all need to work to produce capital to sustain life as we know it, for rent, for bills, for the ever increasing price of food. You may not like the system, of working during the best hours of sunlight and of living during the twilight minutes of a dying day, but it is a necessary state of life at this moment. I guess education has been the backbone for me then, even during the numerous surgical explorations of my body, and not paid employment as per most of my age group. So perhaps a shift of the paradigm to encompass the varied world of work will produce wonders for me, make me a tax paying fulfilled member of society. Perhaps… But it will not shake the jolt of freedom I feel when I think of running among the verdant grasses and lush green trees I spy as my contained car or train rushes past them. No, that for me is a dream yet still to come.