these windows make me feel like i’m living in a terrarium. they’re tall, 4 large panes of glass overlooking they bay and coit tower. 2 panes with a view of an office building. i watch as the shades get rolled up at 7AM. I imagine cold grey sleepy faces looking for the sun. I wonder if they can see me. i’m short. the desk is tall. they look across the way and wonder who left the little kid in the hotel room alone.
the other 2 panes are cloudy, a thin layer of grit making the bay and oakland look like a fading old post card. the view straight ahead shows a slowing hill up to coit tower with offices and oddly shaped millionaire homes layered on top of one another like a wedding cake.
a lyft driver yesterday was excited to be dropping me off in chinatown.
“i live 3 blocks over,” he said. “I want to be done for the day.”
his accent is thick and so are his glasses. he’s lived here his whole life, nestled into the pocket of the city that looks to be the most untouched. he talks about the lyft IPO and the making of young millionaires everyday and i admit to him that i don’t even know what IPO stands for and he says the same and we both laugh at our ignorance and wonder how we’ve managed to survive so long, relics in a place that will soon feel like shiny science fiction space.