I love the color found in the reflections from this window: red, yellow, blue shadows, pale green from
railings. Then the pattern of the criss-crossing vertical and diagnoal lines. No horizontal lines though?
Layered between these lines and colors is the silhouette of a young girl holding her mother's hand.
What sort of society is this child growing up in? The many straight lines and the guard rails imply limits;
the yellow lines on the street surface signal rules and regulations. There is a parking meter - something to be
paid or face a fine. There is almost nothing natural in this world; only a dry plant decoration inside the
window between the mother and daughter, and that is dead. The Native American pot design and border pattern
of the rug in window is a reminder of an older culture that lived with fewer and simpler lines.
There is a door, a red one - might it lead out of the maze? Is it locked, forbidden, dangerous red? Can she reach it?
She is already passing by; is it too late to turn back and find out?