The healing light
The dusty box I pulled from the tight crawl space was filled with oddly shaped lightbulbs. Instead of round they were covered in multiple flat faces like a glass discoball. Each flat panel was edged in fine golden lines. There weren’t any clear ones and my options were limited to five green, two orange and one red. None of the colours fit with the vibe I had planned for the basement space of the quaint cottage I had worked my butt off to buy. This was my space, away from the cold world I was hiding from, and I was determined to have it all my way. But these were my only choices as the unusual light fitting would take no modern lightbulb I had tried. Until I could afford an electrician to rewire the room I was stuck with these archaic party lights.
