16.45 hrs.

An artist in a room somewhere in the northern borough of the working class heavy industrial region of Universo Collunteen.
 
'I'm lying on my bed and regarding the mirror on the window sill. The red berries glow on the Rowan Trees across the road. Doves flap about in the breeze. The sky is milky grey.

My annual rejection letter from the hip Naze Vale Gallery in central Pointeso lies torn on the carpet. I think the odds are something like 150-1 of getting in. Perhaps I'll try again next year.

I'm wondering if my Universo Collunteen postcode had a negative impact on my application? Probably not.
I can hear the downtown Universo factories striking up now. I'm on the late shift and will be in automation in two hours from now.

I've got to somehow try to summon up the energy and make my way towards the door. I'll grab myself a sausage roll and a bottle of lucozade from the shops before I leave. I feel mildly aggressive now if the truth be told. I can see the universe in my carpet.