Actually, nah.
You get the idea. Infinite pictures of basically the same thing over and over and over and over again each day, with a tiny little piece of vaguely passive-agressive variation representing my creative spirit defiantly refusing to be crushed by robotic drudgery. Or something.
Quite apart from anything else, I feel stupid taking a picture of my workstation at the end of the shift. As art, he said pretentiously, the twisty paper piles work much better unsung and undocumented.