Is a Window a Hole?

The life of a window

What would it be like to be a window?

Windows are pieces of glass that sit, framed usually in either wood, stone, or some sort of metal. Generally, they are meant to be looked through; some are clearer than others. A stained window, for instance, is less clear than a normal window.

A window in front of me at this moment is staring at me. Right now, it resembles me, the chair I’m sitting in, and the room behind me. I suppose that, during the day, it is easily seen through; but now, given that it is dark outside and lit up inside, the window is reflective.

Every day this window has the opportunity to see two things, both the inside of the building and the outside of the building. Until it is removed (at which point it likely could not be considered a window any longer), it will only have two views to look upon.

Yet each of the two perspectives it witnesses change. On one side, leaves turn orange in autumn, snow falls in winter, the grass turns green in spring, then brown in the summer. From time to time, a person with a rag of some sort, a bucket, and a squeegee will come by to clean it. Looking inward, the window will see a variety of different people moving about, perhaps studying, going to class, or simply just wandering around.

One day, however, a tree fell down—right into the window. The window stood speechless (as windows tend to do), watching an enormous tree blow in the wind, make a resounding crack, then tip ever so slightly towards its resting place. It tipped a little farther. Then a little more.

Then hurtling towards the building, shattered the window into hundreds of pieces.

For the window, this was a bittersweet moment. On the one hand, it now had the capacity to view its surroundings from hundreds of different perspectives. Thrown this way and that, it could now perceive a building to its right, with its magnificent stained glass and beautiful brick walls. The rooms where it had often seen myriads of people flocking in and out of were now totally visible to the window. A whole new world opened up.

Yet at the same time, now that it was shattered, it could no longer be a window. No longer was it contained within a frame. People would no longer wave to each other from either side of the window. No longer would it reflect the image of people typing on their computer.

Though it now had unprecedented freedom, the window was no longer a window.

People occupying the room the window had previously enclosed heard the crack and witnessed the subsequent breaking of glass. Fortunately, the window was far enough away from them that no one was injured. They went to call the managers of the building, who called the inside maintenance people, who called the outside maintenance people, who picked up the mess of glass all over the floor, then patched the window with a piece of plywood.

Eventually, the window was replaced.

Which one is better: A window, or shards of shattered glass?