The Shop Window
Something had moved or altered its appearance in the window so as to make everything else seem slightly, ever so slightly, disorientated...
Many times he’s looked in that particular shop window with its artificial flowers in faded pink and yellow gathering up the dust particles glistening as they fall.
The suits of mohair, nylon, terylene, worsted or tweed hung like rows of crucified soldiers, awaiting he arrival of the vultures.
Occasionally, one noticed the bare skeleton, already picked clean, its arms and legs pointing haphazardly in all directions, walking forwards in reverse.
It was then, suddenly, a revelation, occurred to this voyeur. Something had moved or altered its appearance in the window so as to make everything else seem slightly, ever so slightly, disorientated. What it could be he was not sure but of the difference he was emphatic… Unless of course, it was his own position that had changed; or the way in which he looked through the window, or even, perhaps, his own conscious awareness of what existed in that window? But that was silly because he had always looked at the window from this position, on this stretch of damp, dark, grey, paving slab. What was so different today about the way he looked in the window that was so drastically changed from before? Looking at it subjectively he could not find any solution.
Logical deduction suggest that, firstly, if ones physical position is the same then the change is either physically in the window, or rather in these objects which are supposedly behind the window, or mentally, within ones own mind. This narrowed it down to the solutions.
He could not accept the latter for, consciously, he felt exactly as he had always felt and reacted as he had always reacted.
This therefore meant that after who knows how many visits, the physical appearance of the shop window had altered. But why could he not pinpoint what exactly had been superseded, modernized or adapted?
It was then that the solution came easily to him.
“Of course, he thought, you remember the old proverb - ‘familiarity breeds contempt’, well, that’s what happened to me. The physical appearance of the window hadn’t changed, it’s just that I’ve noticed something that after all these visits I’d long since forgotten about - yes, that’s it, that’s the answer!”
But, after a few seconds momentary relief, another thought shook him.
“Why, today, of all days, should I suddenly notice a difference which, hitherto, I had long since forgotten? There mush have been some subconscious catalyst, some trigger which made me notice, but what?”
He was back to square one.
Copyright: Anthony Leonard Ostheimer (ALO), 10 August 1973