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6.23.2012

child in the window








In one of these rooms, was a window looking into the street, where the child sat, many and many a long evening, and often far into the night, alone and thoughtful. None are so anxious as those who watch and wait; at these times, mournful fancies came flocking on her mind, in crowds.
She would take her station here, at dusk, and watch the people as they passed up and down the street, or appeared at the windows of the opposite houses; wondering whether those rooms were as lonesome as that in which she sat, and whether those people felt it company to see her sitting there, as she did only to see them look out and draw in their heads again. There was a crooked stack of chimneys on one of the roofs, in which, by often looking at them, she had fancied ugly faces that were frowning over at her and trying to peer into the room; and she felt glad when it grew too dark to make them out, though she was sorry too, when the man came to light the lamps in the street--for it made it late, and very dull inside. Then, she would draw in her head to look round the room and see that everything was in its place and hadn't moved.


Charles Dickens , The Old Curiosity Shop



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2 comments:

  1. hi my beautiful friend,
    ah the universal dream fabric of the photo on the left becomes interwoven with the dream fabric of the window on the right, the dream of the child's window. beautiful.

    je t'embrasse.

    ReplyDelete
  2. and what a beautiful interpretation for my photo, thank you so much, Madeleine!
    je t'embrasse aussi :-)

    ReplyDelete