Every morning I wake up around 8:30, put on my robe, and take my breakfast on the balcony as I spy on the school-, work-, and nunnery-bound commuters. (Apparently there's a nunnery nearby, though I've yet to find it.) Today was no different, except that at around 8:45 a nine-year-old girl fell from the fourth-story window of the apartment building adjacent to mine, and, miraculously, survived. (Frida Kahlo's The Suicide of Dorothy Hale might not have been the best image for this post.)
The incident was reported on most news stations, including these two. Reporters and investigators stalked the scene for about an hour looking for witnesses, but I was too shy to give them my account.