Each morning, it’s a different movie. I raise the curtains, open the blinds, and let the film roll. Usually it begins with the same elderly lady walking her physically challenged Yorkshire Terrier. And then comes a band of youngsters in Neon pink and green. The voices rise all the way to the window and in, along with the bright rays of the morning sun. A few hours pass. Except for the slight sway of weak branches, there is no movement. A brief recess. And then it resumes. A mother pushing her baby stroller; a couple on a casual walk, teenagers poring over their phones…I watch, taking in the magic of the mundane. My eyes catch a face on the opposite window; just like that, I am in someone else’ movie. Time ticks, sun sets, every window now is a pale orange canvas. I close the blinds, and wait for the next show at dawn.


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