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ISSN: 1941-4137 |
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Volume Five Issue One |
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The Human Community Riding the elevated train at night, I looked in lighted windows at the lives of the human community without longing, most of the time, except for my own home, that third-floor apartment with the windows stuck shut. Their lives could go on, in the kitchens and living rooms, bedrooms with shades half-pulled, windowsills lined with papers and books, souvenirs, shampoos, shower gels, soup ladles, butcher knives. Their lives went on as I flew by, a wind eye, invisible, unknown, a kind of float glass, single-hung, without a sash, without a mark from the blower's pipe. Their lives flew by as I went on, mere salt cake and soda ash. And I remember them now, the human community, as if I were not among them, transparent. |
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