January 2009, Calgary: Neighbourly.

There is a middle-aged woman in the building behind mine who I relate to. She has a big comfy chair by the window, and she likes to sit in that chair with her computer or a book or a crossword. There’s a lamp right next to the chair and a desk across the room, but she forsakes the desk for her comfort zone. I like her style.

In the apartment above her, a cat often sits in the window and it hasn’t waved back at me quite yet.

Two apartments above the cat, a man doesn’t know that his low-placed light casts his silhouette against the blinds.

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