Why am I compelled to glimpse intowindows as I pass them by? I gain nosexual gratification from this. I am nothoping to catch some nudity in my glanceupward. No. It’s the quiet, mundanemoments that interest me. I suppose that in some way inthese quiet times there is a beautifulvulnerability about those being watched.I can arrive unannounced and take insome part of this person’s private life.Maybe I can even imagine myself in theirplace. Do I somehow envy these people?Looking in to the windows of a homefeels much like glancing into a shopwindow. Perhaps I am shopping for a newlife.