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Autumn, 2002.
A little girl and her mother were in a car, driving to Portland's Northwest 21'st Avenue. Following close behind them was a second car.
The little girl kept a close eye on what was happening in that second car.
"Mommy, mommy, they talk a lot. Oh! Now they're laughing. They look so happy."
The driver of that second car was the woman I was dating at the time. She was also the little girl's aunt. And the passenger was me.
I think back on that moment when I catch myself watching people a little too closely. I remember the little girl's mother talking over lunch about how fascinated her daughter had been by the sight of us together in the car. I remember feeling a little weird about having been watched, and even weirder still about being judged by a six year old.
Even though I don't like being watched, I can't help watching.
And I can't help wondering.
It's almost impossible not to be a voyeur in my loft. The living room is literally surrounded by windows looking out on several apartment buildings.
Most of these people keep their blinds closed, and I don't blame them.
I suspect that the windows with quality peeping action are simply too far away.
I'm not looking for porn though. I'm looking for stories. Everybody's got one, and I want to hear them all...
...starting with this guy.
Ahh Portland. It's raining again.
::::: | Filed under: photos
::::: | Posted Friday, Jan 13 2006 at 7:59 PM
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