The funny thing about windows is that while you might be staring in or staring out, the window-
It’s a funny thing being a window, because while mostly people want you, open or closed, in a room or in a door, someone always wants something from you, but mostly, mostly they ignore you. Seldom do they, whilst looking through you stop to ponder, my what a lovely window, it’s mostly just the sun they want, or the breeze. Everyone likes windows, indeed they love them, but then, like most possessions, like most architecture, you’re there to sit pretty, to be enumerated amongst someone else’s splendor and forgotten save in times of someone else’s need, desire or whim.
Sounds an awful like being a person in someone else’s life.
What then, is it like to be a window forever gazing out, looking within and stared through.