You know, there is serenity in observing someone live their life - day to day, hour by hour, breathe by breathe.

You come to learn their habits, daily activities, social interactions… but you also uncover unexpected personality traits, watch as they make impactful decisions and discover skeletons hidden in closets.

Once upon a time, I enjoyed observing many different people. That is, until I realised that I had a favourite.

The way that this one person lived his life intrigued me the most. He himself, intrigued me the most.

You may call it an obsession… in fact, that is exactly what it is.

In fairness, he is an ordinary person, living an ordinary life - but there is something about the simplicity of his routines, that make his life satisfying to observe.

Every weekday morning, his phone alarm chimes at seven o’clock.

Then another at five past

Another at ten past

And another at quarter past

Toast, every morning. A light layer of butter and a machine brewed espresso. The smells of the blended coffee beans & melted butter float through the open kitchen window…

The aromas allow me visualise us living in this moment, a brief look into a fantasy life that I wish to experience with you.

Coat on, shoes on, lights off, and he starts his commute to work.

The morning stop at the local café is religious. He needs a second dose of caffeine to get the day going, a latte of course.

With a warm drink in his hands, it doesn’t take too long for him to reach his workplace - he is a journalist for the local newspaper, and he is excellent. I know this because every article with a publication from him, I cut out and keep.

I luxuriate in reading over his stories, his mannerisms and choice of narrative provide me a glimpse into who he is as a person, without the need to connect with him in any other way. He is intelligent, charismatic and well-mannered, which are only some of the traits I adore about him.

Once his working day reaches five o’clock, he begins his walk home - I often notice him lost in thought on his journey home after work, perhaps some of these stories he’s taking home with him… and not because of overtime, but because not all news is good news.

It’s now twenty past five and he has made it to his home sweet home. His favourite place.

His routine hardly changes.

He gets himself into some comfortable evening clothes and makes himself dinner.

He isn’t the best cook, but he tries - the smells that resonate from that kitchen window never disappoint, though.

He will then watch his tv series, scroll through his phone and maybe even work a little bit more - before eventually getting into bed for ten o’clock.

I now wait for the day to refresh, until the morning, when I can see him again…