Diaphanous: So thin as to transmit light
I brought my hand over the window that laid in my room. It was the only thing that laid above me, with everything else just an arm’s length away. I pushed everything away from my table such that I could stand on it and reach towards the ledge of the window sill. I wanted to reach over and peer towards the world outside of the box I lived in. I had always known this world as mine, this small enclave, this darkened sanctuary. I had nowhere else to go, no one else to confide in, no semblance of escape. But as I grew older, I grew taller, I grew stronger, and I had a will to leave. The window that laid over my room was the only place I could go to. Every so often the small of the window would let in just a fraction of a beam of light, and that is how I knew that the world I was encased in was only a fraction of everything that persisted in this larger world. I continued to stretch my hand as I stood atop the table that laid in my room. The light did not persist on the time in which I attempted this, but I knew that the window was still there, and I knew that the grandeur world was still out there. I wanted to reach for it, to see that light for myself, to see everything that this small room could not provide me. My hands scuffed the window sill, and I held onto it with everything I could muster. I pulled up, my entire body pushing off of the table and forcing itself onto the walls of my room. I then held my head towards the window, and just as I did, the small of the window emitted a light that beamed into my eyes. I held them in pain, but as it subsided, I held my head tight against the glass, staring out into the beautiful world around me.