This is the view outside the kitchen window in Kyiv.

There are a number of reasons why this view is observed a number of times per day.

Firstly, the water bottle is on the window sill. Filling the water bottle necessitates gazing at this view.

Secondly, the kitchen in Kyiv is small. Taking two steps through the kitchen, one will reach the window. Reaching the window necessitates gazing at this view.

And so, day after day, this view forces itself through the window, to the inside of the flat. To eyes inside the house.

There's not really much about this view that changes. Sometimes, there's snow. Other times, there's not. Sometimes, when it has snowed, the babushkas come and sweep the path in the middle of the road you see in the photo.

But they only come when the snow has stopped. Or, almost stopped. When it snows, there are always big, melted patches on the path in the middle of the road. This is where the manholes cover the big tunnels that take heat to every apartment in the city.

The path in the middle of the road is where the people who own dogs walk their dogs. They do this, rain hail snow or shine. I think the babushkas who sweep the path of snow may also pick up the dog poo.

In summer, the view will change. There won't be any snow on the ground. There will be green leaves on the trees. The sun will be shining.

No one really lives in the building across the street. They're really offices. So they open up during the day, but there's no prying eyes at night. Even so, there are curtains as a precaution.

This isn't a beautiful view. Looking at a beautiful view once will be enough to imprint in the mind. But looking at an everyday view hundreds of times will create a stronger emotional attachment, like a smell you smell in a place that you like.