The sunsets, to be sure, are somewhere else. But even from this fourth-floor room that looks out over the city, it’s possible to contemplate infinity. An infinity with warehouses down below, it’s true, but with stars up above… This is what occurs to me as I look out my high window at the close of day, with the dissatisfaction of the bourgeois that I’m not, and with the sadness of the poet that I can never be.
