Pent up after days of dreary weather, I ventured outside. There, to my utter shock, I walked into a wall. It was a solid wall of heat. No, more of a cylinder. The kind of heat you feel when you open the oven door to peek at its contents knowing full-well you are letting that heat escape, and delaying whatever lies inside from finishing. Patience, patience ...no, I must look. I looked up, as best I could (the light from this beam was blinding), to face my assailant. Ah, the sun! ...but, though it had been raining for about three days prior, it was different to see the sun. I look around, and up again. The light from this object is covering the area. I stepped out of the beam ...cool, into the beam ....heat. I looked up again. A star - a star the ball of rock I am now on, revolves around, is generating so much heat, from so great a distance, that I must retreat to an area beyond its grasp. I must find cover from the light of this distance star. It illuminates even the smallest crevices. Great beams of heat and light searing across the surface of this small planet. The inhabitants take cover (some), find/build shelters (most), to protect themselves from this distant neighbor of heat and light. We, on this planet, have learned to adapt to living with this object in our skies, beyond our skies, beyond our reach. Yet we are subjected, almost daily, to its reach. Didn't the realtor warn us? Location, location, location.