How fondly I used to sit at that window. No matter the season, the day, the hour. The outside world seemed to pass by, and it did in a sense. However what I gleaned from my observations, to me, meant to much more than actually taking part in goings on of the day to day.
Mother sensed my need to broaden my sensibilities, she encouraged me to go out, become a part of, instead of a watcher of. What she did not understand is that it was really the other way around. I am the one living, they are simply a part of my entertainment. As real as Punch and Judy puppets.
One day, a little boy looked up at the window. He was playing with his ball and it bounced away. How odd for him to look up I thought, it's surely not as if the ball bounced all the way up here. Look he did, in fact he stared. I know what he was thinking. He was saying to himself, look at that woman staring out of that window at me. Or is she a woman, could she be a mannequin? Or perhaps a large puppet? --- So I waved, just a small movement of my hand, but enough to let him know what he saw was real. --- I waved and he blinked and than ran away, still looking for his ball.
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