windows

Dina Mo

by Dina Mo

Story

Another day has passed, another time the sun has set. My window stands wide open as I sit on the window bench and sip a glass of Austrian red wine. And as the world turns silent, my thoughts are getting louder. I gaze outside and with the darkness I have captured in my eyes, the lights inside my room appear with another intensity. My lava lamp has only now fully come to life and my laptop seems to be calling me with that dominant white screen. I know what it says, I should be working right now. But the moment is sweet, and so I keep sitting there, just a little bit longer. Indeed, the moment might just be so sweet because the next task is already in sight. I’ve always liked it when I had the next project on the horizon, even when I wasn’t yet half through my current one. It gives security, it keeps you from slowing down and, in a way, it makes you feel in demand. As much as the stress can get to you, it also validates your work.

I look for a horizon in the view I get from my window, but it ends rather proximately with the house wall of the neighboring building across the street. My gaze sticks to the illuminated window on the slight right of my position. As I’m leaning on the left side of the window frame, I have the perfect angle for intruding these inhabitants’ privacy from here. But then again, without me intending to do so, I guess I have my legitimacy. In the city, your privacy at home is what you trade for your anonymity in public. I saw a man standing next to what seemed to be a big desk and a woman walking around like she was nervous or speaking on the phone. The man stands still for a few seconds like frozen, then slowly turns around and, with a wave of the arm, wipes whatever was lying on the desk to the ground. I take another sip of my wine as if that’s how I comment on the sudden onset of movement over there.

As I suddenly see a young girl, this time right in front of me, I quickly look away. Did she see me? She did look straight into my eyes. I keep my head down to not face her direction. I’m curious though, about who she is, what she does and how long she´d been living across the street. But without properly seeing her, it’s hard to say anything about her. Perspective-wise, she is the closest one to me, yet facing her is the most difficult. I know it’s only mature to dare and take another look, so I let my head follow the silent pull of my object of interest just to find the glassy window, shutters closed, the room behind it dark. Glasses mirror the outlines of my curly head. And I realized at that moment, it was much easier looking at others than looking at myself.

© Dina Mo 2021-03-22

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