In your room
Where time stands still
Or moves at your will
When I was a child, I would often look at other people’s windows and imagined the lives that were going on behind the curtains. In order to build up their story, I would look for hints in the smallest details; from the colour of the blinds or the intensity of lights, to glimpses of objects visible through the gaps. All the time, I was trying to get a peak inside.
Now that I’m older, I’m looking from the inside out, rather than the other way around. I am looking through my own window; looking outside, trying to see what my story will be like; imagining the life that will be going on once I close the blinds, draw the curtain and venture out, never to return.
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