An ongoing project with my grandfather, with whom I currently share a space. Since his stroke, he speaks less, and much of his inner world remains private. Most of his day is spent silently gazing out the tiny balcony or the large window in my room, watching people pass by, letting the world unfold quietly before him.
The balcony and windows have become spaces where he feels less bounded. Observing him go through these everyday rituals, my parents and I try to understand the rhythm of his thoughts and his stillness. Is he truly content with just being or does the monotony bother him? What is he really thinking? We often wonder.
