Hooked to kitchen window and the decaying brick facade was our lifesaver in case of fire. In the late afternoon before my father came home from work, my mother would let me crawl out the window onto the fire escape. It was my favorite place sit. I could step through the solitary window and out of the dreary, stagnant kitchen.

The great exoskeleton of black iron reached from one story above street level to the window of each and every apartment. I couldn’t go anywhere…there was a hinged gate far too heavy for me to move. Besides, I’d sure have my fanny tanned but good for even trying. The worse punishment would have been not being allowed to sit in my barred cage where life was cut into long slices bisected by black twisted strips. Through these slices I watched as the world meandered in and out of my vision. The sounds, sights and smells of the city tickled my senses.

I must have been about 4 years old, but it still seems like I spent a lifetime looking through those bars. Time flows at such a different pace for a child. I spent forever there watching…

I think I flashed on this memory because I frequently sit with my elbows on the ledge of my apartment and lean out the window as I watch the world flow by at a maddening pace. Watching…

Photo: Frederic Friedel