O you window, measure of longing, / refilling so many times / as one life spills over and hurries / toward an other life. / You who divide and who bring together, / as changeable as the sea— / a mirror, suddenly, / reflecting and blending / our faces with what we see through you; / a taste of freedom compromised / by the presence of chance, / grasp that serves to balance out / the great excess of the world.” (Rainer Maria Rilke,‘The Windows’).

I recently emailed my friend and colleague Carlos Jiménez with an efficient, even practical question: “What kinds of windows do you use?” His response was classic Carlos, ending with an ellipsis that was more than twice as long as it needed to be, thereby even further elongating his recollection’s importance: “Years ago I read Rilke’s ‘The Roses’ (‘Les roses’) and ‘The Windows’ (‘Les fenêtres’) and ever since...” This characteristic final sentence generously opens in one direction onto his way of thinking, and in the other onto the world that surrounds him. In short, it’s just like his windows, which are just like him...[+]