Sunday, 5 February 2006


In a living room opposite, bathed in yellowish light, a woman sits watching out of the middle window. She sits there for hour after hour. Periodically a man in a red pullover comes in and speaks to her. She doesn't turn to face him. He looks concerned. He goes away.

The room has an oval mirror on the wall above an old fashioned settee with stiff cushioning and wooden arms. To the left side of the room is a desk with a wooden chair and a stool discarded towards the middle of the room. Over the desk is a double wall lamp that they used to have in hotels - with the pleated cloth shades.

The man with the red pullover comes back, he is drinking a cup of tea. He speaks to the woman for some time. Another man comes and leans against the door frame. An older man with hair greying at the temples, wearing a charcaol sleeveless cardigan. He's drying a plate. He smiles. The woman finally gives up her post at the window and sits down on the settee.

I wonder if she is waiting for her black and white cat. I think thats the windowsill he sits on.

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