When I glance out of my bedroom window, I can, albeit unintentionally, look straight into the apartment building across the lane from ours. It's a tapestry of different lives, playing independently, and yet together. I never intend to intrude, but sometimes as I pass my window, an object of intrigue momentarily catches my eye.
I've learnt for instance that Joe Bloggs on the third floor watches Desperate Housewives every evening. I smile wryly at the juxtaposition of him acting macho outdoors and then coming home to enjoy soaps. And in the apartment next door, there's a couple who have one of the cutest puppies I've ever seen. It's exactly the kind of dog I am hoping to get one day. Two floors above them, there's who appears to be a single mum who's home taking care of her baby every day - and I wish I actually knew her so I could offer to help out once in a while.
Without any intention or design, I'm offered a momentary glimpse into this matrix of lives happening around me - and I feel a sense of connection. I'm intrigued.
It occured to me yesterday, that I've been so busy formulating opinions on my window-neighbours, that I hadn't thought about the fact that they could probably see me too. I wonder what they think about the 'girl across the street who uses a hairbrush to pretend she's a singer as she's getting ready'.
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