Avignon

The simple pane of glass that separates the outside from the inside, the everyone from the only one, the communal from the intimate. From the outside we look and wonder searching for just a little clue about those inside. But all too often the only response we get is our own reflection peering back at us.


But the shutters? Now they tell all. All objectively the same. same wood, same height and width and even sometimes, as here, the same colour. But they each tell their own story.

There are the sprightly insiders. Awake early, spring in their step... espresso drinkers ... they fling all the shutters wide open to welcome the day.

Then there are those that see out but retain their distance, watching, surveying but not joining. Cautiously they tip toe to the kitchen to make their tisane, opening the shutters enough to get a little light but not quite yet embracing the day.

And then the shutters that remain steadfastly closed, where thin shafts of light will seep in causing the dust to dance just a little to the sound of the clinking of glass as another measure and a half is poured before they can contemplate getting up for the day.