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  • I stood outside a pub last night, smoking. Opposite the pub – a house, with lights spilling out through a curtain-less window on the first floor. In the window – a toddler, and a woman and a man feeding him. The woman smiled every time she brought the spoon to the child’s mouth. In moments, she’d also look at the man and smile. The man kept talking to the child.

    There they were – in a simple act of a daily life, together. There I was – an uninvited stranger, staring at a picture from somebody’s life. I was staring at a picture that made me feel warm, yet also a little sad – I was alone, and outside.

    Somehow, they noticed that I was looking at them. The child turned to the window, and the woman and the man came closer to the window, too. They didn’t seem offended because nothing in their body language changed – the woman kept on feeding the child and smiling, and the man kept on talking. All three were looking at me just like I was looking at them. It felt gratifying, because for two brief minutes, we connected. They knew I meant no harm.

    As I finished my cigarette and turned to go back inside, I finally realised – they were looking at a picture, too. I can guess, but I’ll never know what they saw. Pictures will be lost in time.
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