D. (dalaruan) wrote,

all along the watchtower

Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:
The sun-comprehending glass,
And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.

Philip Larkin, High Windows

She didn't care for me when I was born. Let's put it this way: She stood at the window for a long time, a friend described his mother's postpartum blues.

First I didn't understand that he talked about suicidal thoughts. For me there was nothing bleak in this image. 'Standing at the window' is literally one of my life's passions.

Since time immemorial I love to be in a quiet room, alone, looking out the window. I still love it and do it as often as I can, wherever I am. Beautiful landscapes or busy streetlife are nonessential, yet fine. But unconditionally there must be sky, there must be light.

I love to look at life more than take part in it.

Norwich State Hospital, Patiently Waiting ©Tom Kirsch

Tags: me, solitude

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