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.
Blog - Coronavirus
streets in Manchester - XLII
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.
Blog - Thought
Picnic: Sitting pretty and bringing calamity
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.
