A View From a High Window in the Morning | Christopher Winter
It is dark but slowly getting lighter. The early hours of the morning. At least 5 or 6 am. The atmosphere is still. Nothing much is stirring and little to no noise can be heard. Large cast iron lamps shine brightly on the streets below. The centres of the towns and cities are always well lit. The villages and hamlets stay unlit as it would spoil the view of the sky at night. You take a breath; the air is dusty but not irritating. The air is cleaner in the towns, the cities are dirtier, but the pollution is manageable, and people tend not to notice.
As the sun rises and breaks over the horizon, a chorus of birdsong can be heard. This song gladly accompanies workers on their way to their jobs. As dawn continues onwards, you can really start to notice the designs and looks of the many houses and buildings. Nothing too tall or too small. Everything seems about right. The street below is beginning to liven slowly. You can see the occasional person strolling, jogging, walking the dog. From a high perspective, a veritable jungle of chimney pots and tiled roofs can be seen. The chimneys are rarely used any more, but most of the roofs are dotted with solar panels. Your house has a solar panel on the roof, and it helps to keep your energy costs lower – You are glad to have it.
Dawn continues to break, and the villages and hamlets are mostly empty. The vast majority of people who work there are now on their way to their jobs in the towns and cities. Things happen and they happen well. Work is done properly and is carried out as best as possible. The police officer starts his morning patrol, and the river pilot pulls out for his first guide of the day. The baker bakes, the station master administers his railway effectively. Work is done properly and is carried out as best as possible. The people go about their jobs happily and feel content with their wage. You notice from your position that people stroll in a relaxed manner to work. Very few are in a rush.
The people dress well. Professionals wear soft woollen suits with nicely starched collars and cosy handkerchiefs in their pockets. Their hair is stiff and combed properly and they look smart and neat. They are smoking but in a sophisticated way. They use matches not lighters. The manual labourers are all sat talking outside a café. They have just bought some breakfast as a Friday morning treat and are soon going to walk to the dock together, they wear smart but hardy working clothes. Most people are either walking or on busses with little to no car traffic. Even during peak times, the city is much quieter than what you might expect.
The lanterns have long gone out now. It is morning daylight. Bright and brilliant. It is late summer, and the cool wind is a welcome respite from the morning sun. The haze of dawn is gone and has sharpened into a crisp morning, and the hustle and bustle of the city is now in full swing. Trams, busses, and cars all hasten over the well tarmacked road – There are no potholes. Chit chat, crying babies, yelling street grocers declaring their fruit prices can all be heard. Bells ring in the distance to signify the time. Don’t worry, you are not late.
You feel a sense of ease. It all just makes sense. It all just works. You cannot be but overcome with, not a feeling of joy or sadness, but of simple satisfaction. The fabric is kept together, the state is well governed. What more is needed?