The view from the window

Neha writes a short story (or is it a short-short story?) describing her new surroundings to her mother.  It’s beautifully written and paints a perfect picture of the city scene.

I tell her how the whole world opens to this window (at seven in the morning, to be precise) to ringing temple bells and the morning aarti. I tell about the procession of marigolds that engulfs the street at this time; I tell her about the priests on their little scooters, always in a hurry; and the beggars who play cards before the devotees arrive.