A quietly compelling read, perfect if you’re part thoughtful citizen and part pedestrian gawker. Reality TV, train-wreck style voyeurism, no. Knowing that a garage light on Sunday evening means your neighbor is in his rubber boots washing the family cars and working out an OCD jones, yes.
“All these lights, and others, taken together formed a sort of constellation for me, a picture of my neighbors inside their homes, living their lives, side by side with mine. Picturing myself as one point of light within that constellation was comforting.”