Since having moved into this place, I have been looking at these windows and the walls and roofs behind. Looking at a window like a picture, the world turns flat, with shapes formed from elements that are close and afar: The connection between foreground and background only exists in the moment of looking, such that the perspective alone establishes the picture. Depending on perspective just as well, I might call the last weeks tiresome or exciting. Either case, at the end of it, I hung around my place without much energy. So I took a couple of pictures from my windows, later from my kitchen, probably because of the spotlights and the shadows they cast. These days were grayish, and so are the pictures.
