Most days I follow a similar circuit to the High Street, through the Grove, along Berkeley Road, down Mount Sion. Everything seems to be the same and yet the more I pay attention the more I notice changes - buds opening, detritus accumulating, the sky ever changing, the sunlight falling at a different angle. The more I keep this log, the more changes I see. Today the tip of a magnolia bud puts forth a tiny pink tongue.
A woman is playing a piano, her back to the window, into which I glance as I pass by. I catch the sway of her body as her hands cross the keys.
The curtains, which cover the top of the bay window in our bedroom has been taken down, to reveal the whole frame. I enjoy seeing so much more of the sky, of the tulip tree and the house opposite, as I sip my morning tea.
2 comments:
I think Henry James had a word to say about a glance through a window containing enough information for an entire novel - in this case perhaps a new wave film.
or a vague novel ...
( o level french, failed )
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