A window is one’s view upon the world. Cocooned within our bricks and mortar shells, we gaze out over gardens, fields, suburbia, for at least a few feet of freedom. For some, it is all they have.
The size of one’s window has nothing to do with the enjoyment it provides. There is nothing to distinguish between a peephole and a palace as both afford the same view. It is only the perceptions of onlookers, those people who view the viewers, that affect any change in the those who dream.
An old lady might gaze from her bedroom window and cast her mind back to memories of past loves and a life lived to the fullest. A child might see things through different eyes, not having been afforded the luxury of experience. The consequence, children see what they wish to see whether it is there or not, whilst we, the older observer, see exactly that which is put before us. Some would say it luck as to whether we gain the desired eventualities of our gazing, others might suggest it a lifelong plan.
But as I sat watching you gazing out of our kitchen window blissfully unaware of my presence, your breath making mist of the glass, all I could wonder was what’s his name?