Visual discoveries in my new apartment:
1. When I stand at the sink,
and look in the mirror,
I can see through the open door behind me,
out the window,
to the highway that runs by.
And at night,
when it is dark
and I have taken my contacts out,
all I can see are little disembodied blurs of head- and taillights
and the Walk/Don't Walk sign.
They scoot past each other--
Where are they headed?
2. We have the most comfortable couches.
They're like the squashy armchairs in the Gryffindor common room.
It's the most fun to sit on them upside down.
And when you sit upside down on the couch in front of the window
and look up
you can see the top branches
of the trees growing outside.
3. When I was little,
I liked to "play water."
My mom gave me a pitcher
and a few bowls,
and I'd sit on the deck,
amusing myself by pouring the water
back and forth between the containers.
Today, I was doing dishes.
I was washing a cookie sheet,
which I had filled with a shallow layer of water.
Then I ran my finger through it,
just watching the patterns of the ripples.
I spelled my name
and a secret message.
And the the water washed it away,
so it's still a secret.
4. Last night in my dreams,
I saw President Uchtdorf wearing a tan bomber jacket.
We were in an elevator together,
and he was telling me stories about aviation (what else?).
Just photoshop these pictures together in your mind.
Was blind, but now I see.