Windows

One after another I read the writings of others
Each feels like a window left open for a passerby to peek inside
and the passerby cannot help but look
Some are open just a crack with only darkness and shadows visible
mysterious like a puzzle to be solved
Some are open wide to the sunlight, illuminated
but the things inside are arranged for an effect like a store display
Each is just a disconnected snapshot of a universe
inside someone's head.
I continue reading
as if
hypnotized.