The Descriptive Injury: Part I

someone asked her what she was looking at as she stood in front of the large picture window in the kitchen in the abode where she presently resided--- the question came aloud from another room, as if the questioner was busy themselves & only in passing did they see the girl standing with eyes focused, arms at her sides, as if in a private state of wonder (& why a private state of wonder seems to be ample food for the popular & public, pedantically preposterous, who prey upon the rest of us---we’ll never know) & so without hesitation they rambled out their comment, not sticking around a moment for an answer & as if that itself was not an answer to such a question, the girl standing in front of the window neglected to say anything, instead, taking an extra moment to enjoy what it was that she had been privately concerned with, whatever images appeared out there that her own sense of sensory perception was devouring, free of the babble swirling all around, incessantly---