It is eyes and mouth and arms. A mother may be different doors to her children - she may introduce them to the exciting world beyond her, and she may also be the way back, the door to home. Window Windows are obvious eyes, for seeing, and being seen, and light is the element of that vision. Although external light will change following circadian and seasonal rhythms and the changing weather, we have some control over that light coming through our windows. We may draw the drapes as we close our eyes, or darkness itself may be our shutters, reminding us that it is time for introspection, for ingathering, for the inner visions of dreaming.
Windows are also ears.
And major organs of a home's respiratory system. Light and air are circulated in and through a house almost exclusively by windows. As a nurse, and mother of a frequent patient, I have been dismayed by the unimaginative impersonal spaces that hospitals provide. While I appreciate the clean, practical and non-threatening aspects of modern medical architecture, there's something missing. There's little conscious acknowledgment of the sacred, of the profound mystery of birth, healing, illness, death, predation, wonder and faith.