The Window

Seeing comes before birds, I tell my students.

(image by Rene Magritte)

Tucked in the eighth floor of the library, we are sitting in our windowless room, a room so windowless it almost seems a window itself. They stare at me, eyelids shuttered.

I say it again: Seeing comes before birds. I am quoting John Berger. Okay, everyone, I yell (they seem to like it when I yell). Take out last night's reading assignment, and read me the first sentence.

The young Ukrainian volunteers (he is always the first to volunteer). Seeing, he reads in his practiced accent, comes before words. He looks up at me. Words?

Outside a blackbird clacks; the next hour gets so good it disappears.