I think all my life I’ve been, for some reason which I still don’t understand, obsessed with windows, although it’s just in recent years that I’ve become fully conscious of the fact that I have such a preoccupation. Something about looking through windows, either looking out or looking in, has always had a strange visual fascination for me. And I’m especially fascinated with the interesting architectural quirk of interior windows, i.e. windows on the inside of a building that allow you to look through from one room or part of the building to another. Why this fascination? I have no idea.

A couple of years ago I went through a phase in which I experimented for a while with artistic photography. I thought several of the pictures I took were interesting enough (to me anyway) that I put them together into a book. It wasn’t until after I put the collection together that I noticed that most of the pictures in it were pictures of windows. I hadn’t set out to deliberately take a lot of photos of windows, but that’s what I ended up with as a result of just following my own natural inclinations to look for interesting images. I titled the book, appropriately I think, Inner Windows.

An inner window of course is to my mind a metaphor for insight, for seeing with one’s mind. So I could speculate that perhaps my longtime fascination with windows has this metaphorical aspect, insofar as I always seem to be looking, looking for more ways to see everything with my mind. It even occurs to me that perhaps I myself am basically just a type of window. When I stop thinking and stop speaking what is there? There is just the light coming in. And further, my dear wife would be another such window, and perhaps if we try to make ourselves as clear as possible we might help each other to see the world.

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