Through the Glass
Life can be a (window) pane
In this old house, the window glass is rippled. It looks like lizard skin or the confusion of prints in the sand at a waterhole. It offers privacy — of sorts — by breaking me into shards of colour.
In the few minutes of dusk, when the sunlight takes the longest path through the sky, the windows glow like stained glass. And at night, the red and white of passing…