The last years were dark. In the isolation of lockdown, people in boxes on screens lifted hands to wave farewell but never to touch. But light broke in. Blurring, bending and blending, it cracked open hidden worlds. Light turns cobwebs to veils and garbage to garlands. Light refracted by glass carafes and metal teakettles flutters over the stovetop. Diffused by fog and window screens, light pulls one pine branch into focus and fades the rest. It softens hard news with buttery reflections on an old wooden table. Light makes the ordinary extraordinary.