Neighbours are spies without cover

Neighbors, the daily prompt.

They lurk in the unlit corners of their homes looking at you boil water in your underwear.

They film you when you’re low and crying… Your passing despair forever recorded… Congratulations for your new title: The sad girl in block 5.

They talk among themselves; they consider setting up a suicide watch.

Neighbours in the building across from yours know more about the daily habits (and crisis) of your buildings tenants than you ever will.
They look into your homes when they’re bored… It’s like the windows to your soul are made of brick and mortar, and frames and curtains half drawn.

Aluminium frames, making each life a fleeting portrait; but when you need them the most, when you need their discretion and for them to look the other way, is when you’ll be most disappointed; for they cannot look anywhere else. You’re the most exciting thing they can look at, they’re transfixed on the possibility of seeing something that they shouldn’t see. Voyeurs and exhibitionists simultaneously.

One day you’re spied on, the next you’re hiding behind a blind.

I love my neighbours -cause their weirdness makes me feel just a little bit more normal.

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