I am a window person. Looking out provides elemental thrill, the way the scent of a new book does. I just love windows with great views: they take the boredom out of commuting, or of listening to lessons, or of sitting still.
Come to think of it, I am blessed with great views. Literally. Our classroom windows in grade school framed endless, sweeping views of the ocean and the mountains. In high school, it was a different view, but mostly of people rushing from here to there, from there to who knows where. In college, it was a little of both--the greens of Colayco Park mingling with the traffic along Dapitan.
The windows of my post-college rat race changed as often as I changed bosses: they took me from the humbling views of Intramuros to the not-quite-like-Ayala busyness of Shaw Boulevard. From the still green but doubtlessly citified NGO territories of Quezon City to the "smogness" of Cubao. From the glorious sunsets of Roxas Boulevard to the breathtaking Ortigas skyline.
My pace is now more manageable, my views just as awesome. On a clear day, my kitchen window frames the perpetually blue Bulusan volcano, the same view that takes up most of my office's western windows. When stumped, or bored, or listless, or just hankering for a view, I look out, and things fall into place. Always.