In the early afternoon, the sun strikes the left window in my study, highlighting the windowsill gallery, which features a round piece of blue glass, a piece of colored glass and, to the right, an old bottle that belonged to Florence Walrath. Sometimes, if my head is tired from writing, or weary from the details of living in the world, I fancy that this is a big stage, the curtain opening to an explosion of light and color, rainbows bouncing off of the ceiling, I hear the snake dancer blowing his flute, the call to worship from a mosque, a rhapsody in blue. When it is time for me to return to work, the sun moves, the light fades, the curtains close for today.
7
February
Windowsill Gallery: My Study. The Curtains Open.
by Jon Katz