Message from the Driftwood Days

Strange these days between Christmas and the New Year. Being back at work now makes it feel like Christmas is over but neither does it feel like any other point in the year either. Feels like being on a ship in the middle of a vast ocean, out of sight of land. Driftwood days.
Late to sleep last night, as I'm on a (half) week of lates this week, only adding further to my disorientation. When I walked back last night, the darkness was thick and luxuriant, a spectral cold that offers no comfort but no deception either. Intimations of January, and that month's simultaneous new yet old resonance.
Condensation on the windowpanes. Sky wet and grey. I imagine I'll watch the sea, the same colour, merging into that sky, from my desk at work. The sea didn't look trustworthy at all yesterday, all foamy and oddly brown, like bubble bath and flood water.