In the 1987 Japanese film "Gondola," a lonely window cleaner — mid-wipe, no less, and maneuvering high up on the side of an apartment building — catches sight of a young woman inside. She returns his glance and, with the sun's rays sparkling on the freshly cleaned pane of glass between them, a deep and curious relationship begins.
What is it about high-rise window cleaners that inspires such romantic fantasies? Is it the danger? Or is it the paradox of personal distance (between total strangers) and physical proximity (they're only a pane apart)? Perhaps it's simple sympathy stemming from any normal person's reaction to seeing them dangling on high: They must be mad!
"No, I've never fallen in love with a woman on the inside," said 28-year-old professional window cleaner of five years, Mr. Masumoto (who'd prefer to be known by his last name only). He even managed to animate his answer by throwing back his head and letting out a hearty chuckle — something that I found particularly surprising, considering we were dangling 250 meters above terra very firma in a window-cleaning gondola hanging off the side of the 54-story Mori Tower in Tokyo's swank Roppongi Hills district.