All quiet on the Eastern front

Weekends at the Orange is a whole new world altogether. It is a very surreal experience, almost ethereal in a very moodily atmospheric fashion. From having to sign in at the guardhouse to treading the empty aisles of vacant cubicles, it seems to pervade one's consciousness with the feeling that the apocalypse is nigh, or rather, that the precious time of rest and relaxation is slowly fading away.

But of course it's not all gloom and doom, as there is a certain tranquility and placid air about the whole place, which isn't present from Monday to Friday.

On days like this, the Orange envelops us with soft quiet whispers and genteel semblance, and we bear witness to its form with temperance and humility...