Updated: Sep 29, 2021
Windows, I've always liked windows. Not for any particular reason, but for all possible reasons, and more. Starting because the girl is at the window with her hair under the moon and we, here, waiting for a gift from her(*).
Because the window is romantic. I can't remember a person who has dated by the door, but is there anyone out there who hasn't at least once heard of window dating? I don't think so.
But the window is also a place where one can be at, where one can abuse being, on the other hand, a door is a place of passage, not a place to occupy with contemplation.
The window is also something that one goes to in this constant desire, in this incessant restless desire to go further, to go higher. The window is a tear, which in itself is daring, a challenge, a daring. A door is just an opening and has little adventure.
At the window, one peeks out, looking for the dream, or, the most daring, peek inside. The window shows us the world, ours to others and everyone to each of us. The door, on the other hand, only opens to the world... and often closes itself.
It is there, when the doors close, that the window reveals itself in all its splendor, one always opening. Only the window, always the window, always smaller, is a bearer of hope and strong enough to open at the crash of each door that closes.
This is the year of the window. With the doors, all of them, or at least many of them, slamming shut and the windows, always stubborn, adventurous, hopeful, opening, shy but bold, from time to time, a few skittishes.
I know that you, yes, you there on that side, you must have come across some shut doors, but I also know that you must have seen some open windows, and that you've opened a few others.
Windows, this is their year and, you know, more than doors, much more than doors, windows are always #hittingtheroad.
(*) Reference to the Portuguese song "Menina Estás à Janela"