Monday, November 28, 2011
Each time we attend a performance at Portland Stage Company, I look out across Forest Avenue to these three windows. It looks to be a cozy apartment with two residents. There's always a TV flickering across the room, a couple of standing lamps, at least two large chairs, next to a window, a side table with a stack of magazines and to the rear of the unit: just darkness. Against the center window, in one of the chairs sits a gentleman. I wonder, if he knows, that people (well, at least me) might be spying into his world. It reminds of the six-links building that I delivered papers to when I was just a sprout. I always liked peeking into residents' lives on collection day. There were always interesting aromas and warmth emanating from those rooms. We spend our days and evenings 'painting' our life stories, dabbing pigments across a sheet . Sitting in his comfortable chair, just after Thanksgiving, I wonder what's on today's canvas?