January 24 2015

catacombs-boat

One of the great pleasures of winter is to look in on homes through lit windows to the furniture and apparel of strangers, as you walk through empty neighbourhoods alone. Winter air has a particular quality which clarifies your sight as you gaze through the glass: it is like the spaces that make up the emptiness of a house have suddenly impressed themselves on reality’s surface. Lanterns made up of the distance between shelves and hallways hang into the night, patrolled by strangers. A boy in pajama pants drinks milk at the kitchen counter while his mother, seated on the couch, does something with her hands.

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