Behind the Windows

Our city never lacks for a tour bus trying to negotiate its' length down the 17th century cobblestone street, past triumphal arches and tree lined academic boulevards. I often see them from the window as I'm washing the dishes, or making dinner, or typing on the keyboard in our second floor flat. So reminiscent of New York brownstones that I have to fulfill my fantasies of living in Boston (not in New York but they do have brownstones in Boston that are still nicely located from what I could see looking down from the Hancock Observation Tower) by carrying my bike up and down the stairs on my shoulder like they do in the movies - but with the girls following behind, bickering or calling or ... I think it's ironic that when I travelled through foreign places I always thought it would be an adventure to live there, how exciting it must be to reside in this city or that, how much better life must be secreted behind those walls living the life of a bohemian or a rich advertising executive; little did I know that behind all those walls were people like me doing dishes. -- katrin