I could even make a noise deliberately by flinging open the window panels so that they would knock against the wall before swinging out slightly again. That lets her know that I am here, so she’ll come nearer, but also so she will feel at home with the stretch of lonely sand beneath her rather than being frightened by it. Sometimes when she knows I am directly overhead she stands for a long time just below and raises her head once or twice to see if I am still there. Or she twists and arches her body to look up as she’s getting ready to head inside, away from her window. I am there when she looks; she sees me at the instant she twists, as if I have responded to her motions by stretching my head further toward her, looking at her as she does at me. But it’s only a fleeting instant, a brief glance ended by her equally swift withdrawal as she heads inside. An instant; it is not enough for my face to change expression, to move from that first gaze that had not even yet formed. But I know she did curve toward me, or at least toward my window, and not only to see that I was there but also so that I would see her—I, who stand there just as she does.
What do You think about The Penguin's Song (2014)?
