It’s relentless. That jack-jack-jacking at the building right next to this lasts forever. They begin the jack-jack-jacking at eight in the morning. I imagine they have a long line of workers lined up to have a go at it because it lasts until six in the evening.
I hate it.
The constant jack-jacking that’s loud enough to bust any stream of consciousness my brain is capable of. It’s almost as if the jack-jacking point is digging into my brain to jiggle it so. I imagine the letters trying to form words and words trying to form sentences struggling to gain foothold. But the jiggling makes it impossible for them to unite, leaving the stream of consciousness with heap of letters and words.
A giant pile of non-words and non-letters making a heaping mess of what is now my non-brain.
