There is a crack in my window, and I know it distorts my view when looking outside, and some warmth is escaping through the tiny hole. On the other hand, I always forget to ventilate enough when warming the house with a fire, and when I want to look outside, I have many other windows to look through undisturbed. The crack should off course, not be there; it’s not meant to be like that. But I also like the crack and the form it took after the impact from the little rock I threw to get your attention; it’s a memory, one I will never forget, with or without the crack. I like the crack.