The curtains are closed. I know it is dark outside. I know the snow is piled against the window and the candle is trying to burn through an automobile-tire sized donut of freeze. I don’t need to open the curtain to see these things. I know the clubhouse light is winking on and off in one-minute intervals. What I don’t know is the sky. I don’t know what color the sky is, or how much light is there. I don’t know whether the snow on the trees is purple or gray or red. I don’t know if there are stars.