Pigeon holes

While I wait for the sun to rise over the island’s shoulder, spilling the golden rays over the mountainascape , making the clouds blush in mellow pink light, I gaze through the pane and reflect on these tiny glimmers.

Each one representing a few hundred square feet of living space. Living space.

Brimmed with smiles , tears , laughter , grief , doubt, and the smell of soup/ chicken curry on the stove.

Old men praying before they start their morning walk. Fathers watching Bloomberg news, cursing the plunging Dow Jones . Mothers ironing, lovers snuggling closer to cherish the last few hours of slumber. People from distant lands watching from the bedroom window the distant flickering of an A380 leaving Chep lap kok airport and feeling a tad homesick . Missing their real other homes. Grandmothers taking their morning dose of medicine . Two tablets. One yellow, one white. Couples thinking of the first words to say after the big fight last evening. Damsels thinking of meeting their boyfriends at the MTR station in the morning……………………

I lull over the many varied ways how each light , on , could be , might be , must be, representing life going on within.

Maybe it is not like that. Maybe I am just extending the familiarity too far-flung and oversimplifying things. But hey, it is my musing ..and ..

For the few hours until it dawns and spoil everything. Before the glass off the office towers are set ablaze.

When doors are locked from outside and people leave their nests for the day.

It seems there is life in them pigeon holes .