Imagining the Lives of Others

When out for a walk, I love to observe the houses I pass by and every once in a while, if I’m lucky, I even get a glimpse of the inside through an open window. This allows me to make up all sort of stories about the people who live in each one.

Now and then an object is placed near the window and it catches my eye and my imagination. It can be a vase with flowers, a piece of furniture or a painting on the wall… anything that gives me a clue as to the personality of the people to whom these belong.

Houses usually tend to reflect the personality of the owner; some are lovingly cared for; they often have flowers on the windowsills or nicely kept front gardens. If I’m out walking in the evening and a light is on inside, I can imagine how cozy they might be, and some even bring to mind a hot cup of tea!! I imagine somewhat older people living here, people who have cherished memories. I can imagine family gatherings, books that are read in a very comfortable chair, and even a fireplace – or an electric heater – to complete the picture of contentment.

Then there are those that are modern and beautiful, with a polished a gorgeous design, with lights strategically placed to complement the design. I imagine very efficient, confident and successful people living in these homes. People who perhaps travel to exotic places, totally different to their everyday lives. Young couples who mingle with very entertaining people. I can imagine interesting cocktail and dinner parties; impeccable clothes and hairdos.

Sometimes I walk by houses that have clearly seen better days and which have deteriorated in time, as has most likely been the case with their owners. Walls that are in desperate need a coat of paint, chairs that cry out for new upholstery, lives that are doing their best to carry on. These houses probably smell of memories that have been locked away in a drawer. Their deterioration is sad and I think of people who have remained trapped in time; they may be alone or may have lost the capacity to move forward for whatever reason. The windows of these houses are usually closed and not much light can reach inside. Houses like these make me sad.

There are various types of houses: those where children clearly live; those that have a hippie vibe to them; some that are protected by innumerable security measures and devices, and those that are completely open; older houses and modern ones; happy houses and those that seem sad… They all provide me with an endless source of ideas for stories that I tell myself. And I’m quite sure that I’m not the only one who finds it entertaining to imagine the lives of others…