"I was much further in that beyond just put forward untraceable where the eyes of all women in the world when they look through a window and make a point of shipment in the platform, magic carpet ride where you become invisible to escape. No one can cage the eyes of a woman approaching a window, or to deny that the world may sail to unknown ends. In all the cloisters, kitchens, podiums and cabinets where women live literature there is a critical window for storytelling, in the same way that there is usually also inhospitable hotel rooms painted by Edward Hopper and the tiled rooms black and white pictures of flamingos. That's enough to occur sometimes wonder: the woman who was reading a letter or that she was cooking or talking to a friend looks askance at the windows, up a blind or a curtain, and their eyes start to go crazy numb , towards the horizon, birds in a flock that no ornithologist can classify any archer hunting or love and cherish no take flight into the realm of vague that only know who is away. "Carmen Martin Gaite ," From his window at me "(fragment).
