This morning I woke up to the
window panes
rattling. It was only possible to savor
pillow time for so long before madness and irritation started to break in. While
painting trim, it was the removal of small folded pieces of paper from gaps between the window and the frame that was now allowing this to happen. Roll and roll to the right, falling nearly out of bed to rip a small shred from paper placed in
The Naked and the Dead. Papery curtain rolling up to sunlight flooding in, rotate an
antiquated mechanism on the top to allow the counterweighted pane to rise. Now, carefully subdivide the paper through folds until it acquires substance just thick enough to fill the gap. Drive the window downclosed, cursing what hell the upstairs neighbors could do to be causing this.
As a boy much younger,
sandy blond gone for dark brown, I became very fascinated with the enormous windows in the front room. Running along the top is a
criss cross lattice, small panes carefully fitted in repetition adorning the much larger
expanse below. So very wide and heavy enough to fill the field of vision and transfer the outside in. Frames age
warped and weights broken, these massive panes will
pry upwards maybe three inches, to let go suddenly would definitely shatter.
Migrating downwards at the most patient speed, my
amorphous solid transparent panels allow the world to
ripple heavily with a slight change of vantage. With winter comes cold,
outside. Heat then inside, will allow a layer of fine moisture to cling on the windows. An inviting game is to draw upon the
dew of each window, complete a circuit and find the
first already slate blanked, start again. The correct angle will merge inside and outside, reflection is reality reversed, allowing
focus with concentration to select between them.