moving photographs

I love the view from my window. Now it's not the most glamorous of views, but something about it seems nothing short of beautiful. My room in this college apartment sits on the corner of the building leaving me with an odd sort of 'L' shaped space and two lovely sets of windows. My desk sits perfectly next to one such set, ideal for those paused moments of reflection, people watching, and the occasional screaming match with overly intoxicated students on Thursday nights.

Now like I said, there's nothing all that glamorous about this view. And more often than not I dream of being transported to a view encapsulating water or mountains, or a busy city street. What do I see? There is this odd juxtaposition between parallel parking lots, tiny cars negotiating their way back and forth, large brick buildings, a parking garage, and some of my favorite trees- who now find themselves lush and green, creating a semi-border around the cars and people walking through.

And there is a family of birds- a family of birds who find themselves resting in the rain gutters just below the window near by bed. I rarely get to see them, but more so hear their flutter in and out of the gutters. And maybe it's something about knowing that these tiny pieces of nature pop up in between the overwhelming displays of urbanization and construction that brings me joy. Maybe it's the tiniest reminder that I'm not so alone up here in this room- that even from the top floor, looking out over everything else, there are creatures who've come to rest right next door.

In a strange way these windows frame my life- like a moving photograph perpetually in transit. In some ways the view keeps changing. Yet I can't help but feel like it's the way in which I'm viewing that's different. Sometimes the air in this room feels so static, and the world existing outside these windows, no matter how mundane or predictable has breath, and movement, and expandability. What we see depends upon how it's framed. And in a few months, I'll be looking out a very different window at a completely new moving photograph. Yet I can't help but feeling like though it will be different, it'll feel the same.


"My first concern about a window is to find out what it looks out on... and there is nothing I love so much as something which stretches away from me out of sight." - Andre Breton