The mountains beyond English Bay were barely visible in the distance between the numerous apartment buildings that obstructed my view. A heavy layer of gray clouds was beginning to descend, gradually obscuring what remained. This was my favorite place to sit in the apartment. From here I could look out the window over my table and catch glimpses of the mountains to the west, or look straight ahead through the large expanse of glass in my living room, which captured the panorama of windows in the West End and the peaks of the mountains on the North Shore. It was also the only spot in the apartment besides the bathroom where I couldn't be seen.

I was lucky to have a view at all considering the number of taller buildings that littered the blocks surrounding my own. Fortunately, the apartment building next to me, the El Presidente, was set back from the alley to allow for a sizable parking area and the two lots beyond it contained old houses. This gave the apartment a view and some light and compensated for the fact that the El Presidente was a mere ten to twelve feet away.

It had been quite disconcerting in the beginning. After I first moved into the apartment, I found myself continually closing the window blinds in the kitchen and over the table, both of which butted up against the uncovered windows and balconies of next door. I even went so far as to apply a layer of tinted adhesive window covering during the first few months in the apartment. However, little by little I grew accustomed to the faces in the windows and in the summer, the figures on the balconies. I removed the window covering and eventually became comfortable enough to leave the blinds open all the time, just like the neighbors.

A movement in the corner window one floor down caught my eye and without looking I knew it to be one of the two young men who lived there, the one who smoked endlessly. Perpetually dressed in T-shirts and dark blue sweatpants, he was recognizable even without my looking.