I have agoraphobia, which can mean either I have a fear of large spaces or I have a fear of leaving the house. For me it is leaving the house, and so much of the past six years has been spent inside my fifth-floor apartment in Montclair, a suburb just outside of New York City. Though it has let up significantly over the years I am still pretty much a prisoner when winter comes. Sky-watching has always been a past-time of mine, especially now that I have the view that I do, and it helps ease the pain when I am too sick to go out.
This is my life through my window.
I'm a social autistic, a layabout with Panic/Anxiety Disorder, and a terminal optimist with clinical depression. I am oversensitive to stimuli but overdose on it willingly, my synesthesia enhancing it all the more. I'm a reclusive and fragile but I'll jump off a cliff if I feel there's something important to learn from it. I live a strange, charmed life pocked with small wonders and bursts of impossibility achieved. I'm a professional artist despite my best efforts to be a professional writer. I have a collection of marbles that I maintain are all facsimiles of other universes and once grew tomatoes out of the trunk of my car. I created my own ideas to compensate and wrote/illustrated a book in order to share my results with others. One of my life's quests to get it traditionally published. The other is to become wise.