Between the Window and the World

Window Observations

Looking out of my window again this morning, the story remains the same. On the second floor by the window sits the man I wrote about over four years ago. However, for the first time, I saw him eating. It might have been some fruit, as he was using his hands, and what looked like a large potato wedge might have been cut from an apple.

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Surely my eyesight can't be that good, yet I cannot doubt my powers of observation. Brian, on the other hand, seems to have sent another pair of reading glasses to the ocular orthopaedic hospital, one leg lost to the incident of backside indiscipline. No other excuse could be manufactured on the fly.

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Anyway, back to my neighbourhood. There is a new arrival who steps out of the apartment, takes a few puffs of her inhaler, then lights a cigarette. How you could clearly have a respiratory condition and then compound it with the gradual destruction of your lungs is a case of utter bafflement that escapes me.

Beyond the Window

As I stepped out to attend church, it was minus four degrees Celsius, but fresh and sunny. By the time I left church, it had snowed, the ground coated white. I was fortunate to have the right kind of shoes on, the soles with ridges that gave a sturdy grip enough to stop me from slipping.

It was already above zero. After a cup of lapsang souchong tea, I was ready to have a nap. The man at the window was back, taking another glimpse of what might be unchanging but for the traffic, yet exciting enough as a variance to routine.

Then again, as he observes his little world from that window, a flurry of snow seeks to obscure my line of sight. Life continues for all, but I'm blessed to experience a bit more by getting out and meeting people.