Same, but Different
Do I miss the Netherlands? There are moments I return to, like sitting alone in my tiny room, in my tiny flat, watching a hot air balloon float over the rows upon rows of Dutch houses with their red-brown brick exterior and terrarium-like windows. I never understood why no one minded being watched through their wide, ground level windows. Walking on the street, you could see old men asleep on their couches or children surrounded by piles of Legos or couples splayed over one another watching TV. The houses were all the same on the outside, but they contained different people. But if different people live in the same houses do they become more similar as a result?