(descriptive essay)

Window… Sometimes it is the only source of information and the portal that connects you to the world around you. A strange landscape stretched out behind my small window. Sometimes it seems to me that I am trapped in four walls of the forest around my house. However, from my window you can see a tiny piece of the village. These houses living on the hilly streets of the village are well known to me. But my house is one of the last houses in the village. Then the forest begins.

If you look not so far, but very close to the house, you can see the forestry bus station and boiler room that heats the village. Right under my fence there are giant logs. Sometimes children sneak here through a small split under the gate to the boiler room to play there. Of course! The logs seem to be made to climb and jump on. An angry and caring boiler room driver often scolds children and drives them away from the place of entertainment.

Today, as always, it is very quiet here. All that happens outside my window, within this tiny space with swaying trees, boiler room, and the chaotic movement of the air…Window, my portal to the world…