When I see a house

When I see a house, I do not look inside. I do not imagine what is inside. I do not want what is inside.

When I see a bird, I do not imagine where it came from. I do not imagine where it is going. I do not imagine what it is. I do not imagine how it got here.

Everything after seeing is imagining. Pain. Suffering. Illness.

I do not look at that which draws me in.