At close range, you can see the smudges on windows, the stains. Someone came along and changed that window; they left an imprint on it. No longer is it the see through situation you thought it was. Almost always someone is touching the pane, how does one keep it clean? Sometimes these windows make time seem to stop. For one terrifying moment you are there locked into looking and unable to do anything but imagine.
When these windows have such power, you are indeed vulnerable. My fallacy and many others, is in trying to keep the window clean, we hide the truthfulness of where we’ve been and what we’ve done, what we seek and what we know. We do it because we don’t want the smudges, no one wants to be easily read, but some marks are easier to hide than others. We want people to think we are see through and that we obscure nothing, that we’re as shiny as the rest or better.
My window is far too dirty for my own good, but for a few priceless seconds today I was read more clearly for all the dirt I've accumulated. I let mine dirty, for although some marks are foul scratches, the total of the imprints shows a greater understanding to those who may wish to stop and look into me.
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