9
“Yes, there is flight, and there are the windows where flight begins,” N. continued his conversation with himself. “A special kind of window.”
N. had discovered such windows as a young boy, when a 16-year-old fell from a window on his stairwell. He had sat on the balcony as a dare, dangling his legs high above the street – first one leg, then the second. Maybe he was pushed, maybe he was drunk… It was a fourth floor window, and they took him to hospital to heal his fractures. And it wasn’t long before a lift appeared outside the block of flats to hide the stairwell window, but N. now knew that such a window existed: a window where flight begins.
He had often dreamt of flying from his bedroom window – looking up from the street he had worked out it was the nearest to that window. But w
