Sometimes, the window watcher wanders past windows, oblivious, giving up windows for the sea. Sometimes the windows are watching you and me.
Sometimes even the life-long window watching eye takes a rest.
And the window does the looking, keeping the trust.
Sometimes we look in the salon, the bar, the shoe store by golden gloaming, lit like vignette candles, stories set in windows as we walk by.
Sometimes the windows look out.
"My, you look divine today. Maybe a bit ragged. Maybe it's the morning after the night before, is that the story, cutie? But my, you look radiant in your rags, Missus."
Sometimes the window holds out its eyes to us and says, "Excuse me Miss, can I ask you a question?" The window taps our shoulder.
Sometimes we get right up in the window face.
And then it's dueling eyes, high noon in window city.
(Photo by Susan)