Mr Security doesn't bat an eyelid as you stroll through the gates leading to his guardian temple of lolitas probably because he didn't see you for some obscure reasons. Chief of which could be that he was a dichromat and sunlight does play havoc with his rod and cone cells.
On other occasions I am made to surrender my identification and wear a tag round my neck like an albatross . Sometimes this may not be enough and the "other security personnel" Mr Estate Manager insists that you are "loitering" . For his information, if the main security has already cleared me with the dog tag , what's with this new "loitering" allegations? The Queen Counsel is in town?
CCTVs are as effective as condoms if and only if someone monitors them 24-hours . Otherwise we are not averting a potentiality but rather only being circumspect on hindsight.
Have you ever noticed how our edifices sometimes mirror gulags or fortresses. Aptly so I conclude for the minutia of daily slam-dunking taking place behind its turrets.
Imagine siting barracks where sand sits all day right at your door-steps. It is sand trudged in and out all the time, necessitating frenetic sweeps which stir up a dustbowl so thick even China's sand-storm cannot compete.
What about the fatuous dislocation of transportational services plying different routes but displaying like call number? Why can't it be call numbers XXXA and XXXB to highlight the anomaly rather than a singular but confusing XXX which in actual fact is fragmented?
Or where you need to apply for a license for occupying one-twentieth the space of a floor of building whose structural safety you cannot change anyway except on the landlord's onus?
The list goes on...
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