We like watching out the window on bright morning. We like when the people are far away, a tenth of their normal size. We like watching as they park their car, check themselves in the mirror or whatever else they do before they go where they are going. We like to watch when they think no one is looking. We like to see all we can see: their physique, the color of their shoes and the way they walk.
We like to make judgments about them based on their physique, the color of their shoes and the way they walk. These are light judgments, they evaporate as soon as they are made. And we are not always nasty. We think, “That one must be a lawyer.” Or “That one seems like they would talk to me about books they like.” Sometimes we think “How did that person let themselves get so fat?” But then we are secretly worried that we are getting fat, which isn’t healthy or attractive or so we’ve been told.
At this distance everyone seems manageable. Out the window everyone seems like a moral person. They seem unassailably human. It makes us wonder about the space between “seems” and “is.” How big is that space? Can you drive a car through it? Is it nice this time of year? How long have you lived there? Or is it just a hall closet filled with all sorts of stuff we’d rather not have bought in the first place.
We like it best when they look up at our building. Do they see us? What do they think of us? We hope we look impressive.
