through_a_glass_darkly ovenbird Having the window seat means I have control over the dimmable glass, a magic trick of electricity and light that astounds me. I become a child, sticky fingers drawn to press the button, again and again, to satiate my amazement. I’m drunk on my own power. I want to watch electrochromic gel blot out the sun. Then I want to lift the veil of darkness and kiss the cloudbanks’ bridal face, lips wet with all the death that does us part. I think that I can thin this portal to the point of permeability. If I make myself a static shock, perhaps I could pass through. 260219 what's it to you? who go blather from