by Ione Citrin

Artwork Description

The Window

0.0 x 0.0

40" high x 30" wide oil on canvas "The Window" - Every morning at exactly the same time the policeman would see the window open on the top floor of the ancient building. A lovely vase of flowers would be placed in the open window. He could smell the fragrance of the flowers from the street. It was mostly deserted except for vagrants and one or two welfare renters. In its heyday it was an exclusive residential apartment building filled with the hoi toi of the town. Today the area was a slum and the building was falling apart. The policeman couldn't figure out how the woman could afford the fancy flowers. "She probably stole them from yards in another neighborhood." He said to himself. He was very curious about the window, the woman and the flowers. He would wander around the various floors of the building, but couldn't locate the exact apartment, nor could he find anyone who knew of a woman who put fresh flowers out on the window sill. After a while he let it rest, and just watched from the street. Within a few months, the window stopped opening, and, therefore, the flowers stopped coming. It was a secret the building and the neighborhood held. The policeman was an "outsider" and didn't know all the details. "One day, sometime " The next month the building was demolished. While walking another post in a different neighborhood the cop saw another window opening high in another ancient decaying flea trap. He saw the same set of female arms situating a big vase of bright flowers on the sill and then disappear! He hurried across the street, but again couldn't gain access to the hallways or anyone who knew anything. "I guess it's just going to be my secret", he said to himself, once again, and continued watching the daily ritual of the flowers in the window. With every new post he was assigned to, the same event would happen in a different building. He got used to it, and actually looked forward to seeing it happen at exactly the same time every day. He even went there on his days off, and it would happen again. He would chuckle; shake his head and walk away, feeling that it was his secret and something special for him. He never forgot, nor did he share his experiences with anyone. It was something all his own to figure out.

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