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After Mama died, I found myself unable to escape the pull of the window. Through the glass I could see the trains heading out to warmer and brighter places. I’d sit there watching the night sky deepen to stars. It calmed me to know that there were thousands just like me in Pragur, sitting at windows, wondering about all the others at their windows who watched for birds and people and trains. They were like me, I was sure – young, but old enough to have started to live, sitting at our windows, sipping cheap vodka, and telling ourselves that in those dark reflections of the panes we were not glimpsing our future.

Gina Ochsner, People I Wanted To Be, 2005, From the Fourth Row (p. 105)

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