closed doors, open windows

Since I moved from Spain to New York a few months ago, I felt that I had lost my home and I would have to build one by myself. I wanted to explore my new neighborhood and meet the people that lived in my area. I started walking around it at night when everyone was supposed to be at home because I wanted to observe them. During those night walks, I was captivated by the inside of the huge and beautiful houses that surrounded my area. For many nights, I waited there, alone in the dark, watching the activities that my neighbors did in the comfort of their homes. What would be my family doing at that same moment? What would be happening at my real home? I was invaded with curiosity and through the observation, I started feeling connected to those people. I saw my family reflected on them, I imagined what would have been like to live there, to share their space, to be them. It felt just as if I was invited to look but not to enter. Do any of these people know what blinds were invented for? I guess they didn't expect someone to be staring from the outside. I was a stranger passing by, I wasn't supposed to look. Had they seen me, they would have felt invaded. As I returned to my apartment with a knot in the stomach, I came to realize that, even though I had a house, I was still homeless.