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Windows in buildings are like human eyes. You can open them, close them or open them part way. Unlike walls that always exist as closed silence, windows equalize and show the full scale of scenery: roofs, houses, sky, naked trees and buildings that reflect the sunlight. A window captures the scene in its frame and is like a picture.
People store whatever they see from windows in their memories. This is called individualization of images. For people, windows are a boundary and a link between themselves and the outside world. A reflection of one's inner world is hidden somewhere there. People often sit or stand beside windows, suggesting that they have an aspiration for the possession of their own image. Windows therefore are the frames through which people change their memories into words.
What about train windows? That world of whitish light and dark is similar to looking at a scene from an old black and white film. A train window relieves a traveler's mind. At the same time, passing scenery will hold and involve the traveler.
Windows seen from the inside are a boundary between the outside world and us. At the same time, the outside is, transformed into an ordinary picture. I wonder if windows are the frames for landscape painting.
The light that comes from a window determines the light and shade of objects. In this room, I can observe the light as if I were in the camera obscara of Leonardo da Vinci. Objects are frozen by receiving light from the window. Windows are like another set of eyes, revitalizing our memories. Windows are even more movie-like than a movie. It takes the reality from scenery and objects and changes it into an illusion.
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