There must be some way to shield our sensitive eyes from the harsh light of the sun, and our dysregulated temperature-sensitive bodies from hot hot heat.
The dream is complete climate control. Plus the capability to throw a switch (or just say “shields UP!” like a Star Trek ship captain) and all outside light is blocked.
Preferably with the ability to magnify, intensify and painfully REFLECT the light back to inconsiderate human-made sources. Teach them a lesson. Get them to reconsider their insane soul-penetrating light pollution. But I digress.
Because of this invalid fantasy, at the sweltering hot height of summer at my mom’s house, with no doors or curtains between her living room and these windowed french doors in her kitchen, I knew *exactly* what to do when her first shipment of invalid-meals arrived packed in a huge box with dry ice and lots of 80s styrofoam:
I TAPED ALL OF THE STYROFOAM ONTO HER WINDOWS.
Thick. Insulating. White. Reflective. FREE.
And WEIRD.
Isn’t this how we identify homes containing sick people? By their tin foil and strange adaptations designed to sabotage the original intentions of windows?
I fantasize about installing these types of barricades. Using whatever I can to make walls thicker and fences higher. Putting up as many layers as possible to prevent being seen or overheated. Fortifying and padding my living cells from sounds, prying eyes, and the cruel rays of our ever-more-threatening day star.
Advertising to all who pass that someone inside is not normal. Someone inside is busy erecting resistence. Someone inside says your normal is not welcome. Someone inside is receiving and living according to the wisdom of entirely different transmissions than you out there are accustomed to.