Pomme Terre

'Dear Mr Clifford L.,' it started.

A sense of familiar disappointment washed over me as I realized it wasn't Faye.

'Greetings from Monash School of Arts. We will be having a Christmas Arts Gallery in our college throughout the month of December with the theme -Out of The Box-.

We stumbled upon your portfolio online and we truly like what we see.

We would like to extend our invitation to you. Would like to be part of our project? Please call us for further discussions or arrange a meetup.'

I tied up my hair, and checked for the name and number of the sender. It's a mobile number.

I punched in the numbers, heard a dial tone and barely after 2 rings, a respond came through "Collins, Monash Arts."

"Hello, I am Clifford L. I received an email from you regarding ..."

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There it is, the stylish building where creative and artistic minds are trained. I pulled up at the visitors' parking lot and gazed at the architectural design. Twin buildings facing each other seperated by a walkway that slopes downwards and ascends up at the end via a flight of stairs.

I have an appointment with Collins.

I only brought my iPad with me, which should be enough, as in it I catalogued all my work in soft copies. Students roam the corridors. They may or may not be fashionable but most of them are carrying an air of personal style within them, even if one is simply clad in white pants and a white shirt.