A Light in Vermont

A Light in Vermont

I’m very light sensitive. I’ve always been, even when I was young. Kat remembers many nights where, after going to a party, I’d leave with light bulbs clinking in my pockets. I removed them earlier in the night from their sockets, especially the ones over my head. Nothing destroys the mood of a room faster than harsh, overly bright, lighting. So, while camping, I prefer the warm flame from a candle or old-fashioned oil-burning lamp to the glaring white light of a hissing white gas Coleman lantern or worse, the blinding white light of one of the modern LED lanterns.

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