My kitchen window looks onto the back of a sheltered accommodation block. Cats prowl on the grass below. In the morning, in spring and summer mornings, in clear spring and summer mornings, the sun shines onto the red-brick walls and bounces back to light my kitchen. 

This morning I waved to the old man whose name I don’t know and he waved back. Today the reflected light shone out from his eyes. He smiled and pulled the curtains shut again.