It spreads its wings and sits behind the window of my tiny apartment. It watches me. It watches my daily, futile struggle. Sometimes I imagine it secretly tracking my every movement, keeping me under its quiet surveillance. Perhaps i’m being fanciful again, and the poor bird is simply waiting for me to toss out the remnants of my lunch rice. I blink. It blinks. I spread my wings and stand behind the dust-coated window of this fifty-something-square-meter apartment. At times I imagine I am witnessing nothing but my own reflection in the glass- a giant bird observing every motion I make, a giant bird waiting for the sun to set and for yet another miserable day to come to an end.