On one side of the room, the built in wardrobe is approximately one half of the width of the wall. On the opposite wall, the window also owns literally one half. It is not that the wardrobe is particularly large or the window a grand feature bay but that the room has similar dimensions to that of a rabbit hutch. Not literally, but approximately. When the blind is drawn down, I am boxed in and I like it.
The room feels self-contained and suspended like a hot air balloon hovering in the midst of a built-up city. I do not think of its interdependency on the hallway to the right, the kitchen behind my head and the main bedroom with en suite beyond. When the door is shut and the blind drawn, the room and everything in it ceases to exist. No-one thinks about the room. Or thinks about me being in the room. The room is mine and exists only to me. Outside of room and I, we are invisible.
There is a scratch at the door, the room is not suspended anymore. As the cat creeps through the creak in the door, I lift the blind in and let her leap into her spot on the windowsill. The window is a perfect sqaure frame holding one perfect solid square glass panel. It frames the world perfectly like a glass panel in an aquarium, tropical fish swimming in and out a line of vision. The fish exist only in the present. No one can see where they came from or where they go to. This is my aquarium window except the fish are people and they do not swim but walk and cycle and encase themselves in moving vehicles. The scenery is not plankton and plastic castles but other windows and buildings and carparks.
From where I sit the sky fills four fifths of the window. It takes its hue from a paint brush coated in navy and plunged into a clear, still glass of water creating white and light dappling. Soon, fusion will be complete and the night sky will relax into solid blue unmindful of day. A flickering of red and yellow light races through the last of the silver linings. It takes approximately seven seconds for the aeroplane to cross my window screen from stage left to right. I watch in amused bewildermint as I imagine this tin shell with wings exporting and importing hundreds of little people across the Firth of Forth into Edinburgh Airport.
No one knows that I have sat in this box of mine that to you in your areoplane does not exist and that I have saw you fly across my line of vision imposing yourself into my existence and that you will never know me who watched you.