I sit behind the closed window and watch you. You try to teach your child to ride a bike. Young and impressionable, the boy watches your every move. He sees you anger quickly and wonders why. He quits because that’s what you did.
I sit behind the closed window and watch the news. Headline: “More people dead!” There’s an interview at a mosque. Why didn’t they interview the church when that Christian boy killed those people?
Logic is a scarce commodity.
I stand at the open window. I jump. Some days I fly. Some days I fall. I no longer care.