Just a large, dull, enclosed patio with a cracked, concrete floor. In that floor is a metal door painted black that covers an underground cistern full of spring water from beneath the mountains.
Abutting that metal door in the cement floor is a large, circular water tank painted a peeling red. That tank rests atop a round, cement-and-stone base about eight inches high.
There is, as I said, nothing special about that patio, but if you open the window at dusk, a gentle breeze enters, passing over the sink.
And sometimes music too.
* * * *
In a few days more, I’ll have another story about windows and music. It’s a ghost story from decades back, and a true one at that. A harp is involved.