The Spy at His Window

Posted on: Viernes 6 mayo 2005

Just across the street from the building we live, there is another building with apartments. We don’t have balconies, but the windows are pretty big so we do get enough light, for us and the plants. We have a couple of the hanging ones and my husband made a shelf just in front of the window for the other plants such as the cacti (whatever is the plural for “cactus”) and the orchidea (favorite plant of my darling). So once in a while I go at the window to check the plants, water them if needed, but usually my husband does this, and then I look at what is going on down in the street. It’s overall very quiet, there are a couple of boutiques, a little police station (they didn’t even avoid our bikes’ tires to be stabbed when we use to park them across their office…) and that guy. The Spy is a man who must be living in one the apartments in front of us, and who is always at his window, looking down the street. When I say always, it’s the total truth, I wanted to take pictures of him in all types of weather: when it’s sunny, gray, raining, snowing (yep, he was there when it was falling big thick snow from the sky!)

Poor man, I wonder who he is. D and I have imagined all sorts of stories.

One of my scenarios was that this man is an Italian, or Greek (don’t you find they look alike?), who lived his whole life in front of the sea, but now that he is in Canada, the best he can do is imagine the beautiful view he had from his window and act as if he was back in his homeland… Don’t ask me why he came here, I didn’t imagine that yet.

OR he must be extremely bored, without TV nor internet… (we don’t have TV, but we do have internet! ha!) Either way, doesn’t he know how to read? The public library is a couple of blocks away from home, very close and free! Why doesn’t he go there pick up some books per week, and instead of spying his neighbors (that’s how I feel), he would use his vivid imagination on nicely-written-stories!! What do you think? Should I go talk to him? (I won’t)

Oh, but wait, if he is Italian (or Greek), maybe he doesn’t speak English?! Well, if that is the case, why doesn’t he learn it?! Don’t be stubborn, English is not my first language, nor my favorite one, but I do write my blog with it, see!!

What do you think? Should I go talk to him? (I won’t)

I don’t have a picture of that guy at his window, because D thought it was not worth it, but I do have a photo from our window, looking down the street:



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