6 scenes i'd like to see through my window

1. Leena far, far away in a distant field. One that is green and patterned with cows and daisies, making for a splendour of yellow and black and white and green. The sky is deep blue and candy-floss clouds move from right to left, disappear, and eventually return, perhaps bringing greyness and rain soft enough to only dampen Leena’s hair. It is an Impressionist’s painting, blurred and soft, yet it is strikingly distinct in places. I can see that Leena is sitting cross-legged on a small boulder, for instance, weaving a basket out of coloured feathers. One could imagine that she collected the feathers from lorikeets that were flying above the cows sometime before the curtains were opened and the scene was revealed. Perhaps they will return with the grey clouds and rain.

2. Tall, nondescript, blonde girl being hit by a yellow school bus, strictly in the manner of Mean Girls. Note that this would only be funny in prescribed circumstances, and that any deviations from such circumstances would result in a terrible, distressing scene that I do not want to see out my window.

3. Tall, nondescript, blonde girl walking awkwardly by in a head-to-toe metal frame after being hit by a yellow school bus. She’d better wave.

4. A lawn of snow. And on this lawn of snow, a number of molehills of snow. And between these small molehills of snow, trees, with hats of snow perched on the tops, and sleeves of snow covering the branches, and pockets of snow ready to drop from the trunks. The scene is still for the duration of a piece of toast and half a cup of tea. I note the air smells like musk. Then, I place the cup to my mouth and as I am about to swallow, a red, snow-speckled beanie emerges from the centre of one molehill, like a boil coming to surface on a chin. I spit out my tea. I see a face, a frost-bitten face, a bemused, lost-looking face is beneath the beanie. It is a boyish face and he peers around, I imagine as much as his neck and body will allow. His eyes move up to the sky, the window, and the boy pokes his tongue at me before retreating back into the molehill. Over the next hour my tea goes cold and three more beanies appear. I keep an eye on the trees, but I notice nothing spectacular.

5. A man, any man, with a miniature violin (or other instrument of miniature dimension) sitting under an umbrella with a small, yappy dog beside him, singing “I want to kiss you all over, and over again, ‘til the night closes in”. I believe this is called a serenade. And I believe this would make me, and every other witness, undoubtedly jubilant. Yes, jubilant.

6. Mario racing along a brick platform, looking like a hologram, as he flashes pink and yellow and green and blue and red and orange. “Hi Tegan!” he shouts as he runs into a Koopa Troopa and hurtles it into the air, causing it to spin and vanish. “I’ma gonna win!” he says. The colours fade and the orchestra on my verandah pull back on the frantic music. Mario grins up at me and skilfully bops a bomb on the head, before taking a generous run-up, puffing out his chest and raising himself into the air. He travels a small distance, but alas, he is too fat, and he returns to the ground, only to get stung by a quivering, red-cheeked caterpillar. Mario slides down the face of the platform, looking sad and more defeated than ever before. The orchestra plays on. I tell them to shove it.