Window of Collage

A courtyard of an old factory building, their windows are like cells. Are they offices now? Will you one day work in an office, will you wear a suit and forget who you are? Below you, the car park is clustered with ladybugs of metallic colourings, you watch people being alive and curiously open inside of your imagination, yet definitely real and closed off from your reality. The sky keeps twisting and shaking into new shades of grey. Thinking back to ink pots in art class, paint brush, water, parchment. Drawing Heathcliff's face one hour, reading and hating him the next. The sky mixes with rising smoke, whose origin you are unsure of. Hard Times. It is raining and it falls in lines that chase each other down the glass you are staring through. Like lines on a page, you think of the future, lines unwritten. People forgotten.
The wind blows through the leaves of the trees, it shakes the branches, each leaf a little sail. You can hear the sound it make very faintly but it is amplified by memories.

You are reminded of your first school, when you had just started to grow into the adult world, and leave forever that world of your childhood. You used to stare in class out at trees like these, very much like you are doing now, and as the days and years past by and the seasons flooded up the roots of the trees to change your view ever so slightly, the image of the trees you saw everyday became a symbol to you, a symbol of life and all it ever meant to you; but that you is dead now. All of those atoms replaced by new ones. The leaves that are falling are dead, but still you stare at them, feeling the feelings your child self used to have, but not remembering exactly what they were. One day you will look back at these words, written in the back for your notebook you use for college and think, this was one of the happiest days of my life, even though it is unremarkable in every way. You weren't paying attention to anything, maybe just the passing of time and the slowness you can find within stillness. Through the window. They are all more than just raindrops, leaves and hope.

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All works Copyright Kate Ruston 2014

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