My Son the Krikkiter

Writing this from the shores of Lake Huron. It’s a clear night, and while we’re very far from the wilderness, we’re also not exactly near a big city. Which means you can walk along the beach at night and actually see stars, things we only see in Brooklyn if there’s a total power blackout.

Raising a child amid such egregious light pollution may be a form of abuse. I just hope when he grows up, he doesn’t decide to build an army of white robots and try to destroy the universe.