I like strolling around at night and noticing what the lights in the living room illuminate; peeking in for a moment and imagining the lives that are acted out in that space. It’s a thin slice, but that doesn’t keep me from passing judgment.
A wall full of posters indicates the inhabitants are probably beer drinkers of the Budweiser or Pabst Blue Ribbon variety. Neatly spaced abstract art is no doubt indicative of a basement full of fine wines.
The television is flickering in lots of the homes as I pass by. The folks inside wrapped in a mega-pixel trance. There are TVs the size of a soccer field covering the walls. I’m sorry, but I don’t need to see anyone’s nostrils that enlarged.
Some homes are sparsely furnished. You wonder where any guests would sit if they happened by. Perhaps they don’t have many friends, or perhaps the economic climate has forced them to sell all their comfortable furniture just so they can put a little food on the table, even though the table is no longer there.
Every once in a while, I’ll see someone dressed in something less than his or her full pajamas. There is a great temptation to allow my gaze to linger, but my ethical sense tells me to turn away. Well, this is one instance where ethics tumbles to a distant second.
I’ll be walking the streets again this evening, learning more about the fascinating folks in my neighborhood.
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