Who Needs TV?

The wood burner ticks intermittently as it heats up, and now begins to cool again, as I let it go for the night. I am learning its voice, its needs, its ways. I stare for long minutes into the silvered glow of the consuming logs, breaking down into cuboid glowing chunks of fire red fire orange. Something almost tactile in the pleasure of looking, alongside the frightening knowledge of the harm touching would do. Flames lick upwards.

Outside snow.