From the Sill

A stack of heavy design magazines made an easy bridge from the desk to the windowsill. I stepped across them and took up a spot against the painted wood frame. Outside, the street below had a steady rhythm—cars sliding through intersections, someone unchaining a bike by the curb, and long afternoon shadows stretching across the asphalt. The glass was cool where my shoulder brushed it, muffling the rumble of the city into a low, even hum. It feels like a solid vantage point. Good place to see what's out there before heading down.