This is dedicated to all those Bananas that you pass in the corridor, meet in the lift, wash your cup next to in the cafeteria that you fall in love with, and then never clap eyes on again.


You are waiting for the lift together, the day outside is sunny, it is Friday – all the correct ingredients for a power-crush.  He has curly hair, a gorgeous nose and an intriguing accent, as the lift ascends from the bottom to the top floor you talk about the fact that you both would like to be having a caña instead of working.  He holds the office door open for you and you smile warmly at each other as you pass through his open arms.  You go to your desk with the sunshine of his smile still upon you, confident you will cross paths again soon, but you never ever see him again.


Who are these Bananas?  Perhaps they are ghost crushes, conjured up by the beauty of the day.  Maybe they don’t even work in the same building, they just wandered in for the hell of it.  They could even be thieves, or terrorists, or homeless.  Maybe they just came to fix the drains.  Whatever it is, and whoever they are, we love them all the same.


Ghost Bananas: you make our trips in lifts and our skips down corridors that bit more gorgeous: you brighten the day in this shitty job.



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