During one of my more desperate flat-hunts, any amenity beyond a flushing toilet was a bonus. With my rose-coloured glasses firmly on, I decided a ground-floor flat, tucked at the back of a narrow Art Deco block in Sydney’s east, wasn’t dank, or a certain trigger for seasonal mood-swings. It was, as advertised – “cosy”! Especially my room. Tight enough that I could kiss both walls when I rolled over in bed, and dim enough that the window sill could be stacked high with books without any fear of compromising its single source of natural light. I quickly adapted to my cave-den. I learnt how to make my bed while still lying in it, and how to eject myself onto the tiny patch of floorspace without disturbing my fine work. On a good day, I’d stick the landing and hit the on-switch of my floor lamp on the way down. Cloaked in a brown silk scarf to soften the bright bulb, its glow would softly illuminate my intimate confines. I liked to complain to friends and family for drama, but truthfully, I felt oddly content. Coddled even. I remember sleeping very well. The ideal levels of light deprivation for melatonin production, perhaps.
This period of my life happened to coincide with a friend’s entry into the housing market. I was eager to understand the details. Like, “what are you listening for when you knock on walls?” and “why is aspect such a dealbreaker for you?”. I thought about my dimly-lit cave and my acclimatisation to The Dark Side. I admired her ambitious sun-seeking property preferences because, in theory, this would reduce her options by at least 25 per cent. So, from my cave, I began to brew some gentle scepticism. My friend now lives in a dappled two-bedder on The Light Side.
Thankfully, I’ve since seen the light. And felt it too. The warm serotonin release standing in a kitchen gently bathed in the rays of the rising sun … the satisfaction of turning sausages on a barbeque perfectly positioned to snatch every last setting ray. Much like a shadow never staying still, I’m aware of how fleeting this experience of light can be. Fortunately, my fondness for The Dark Side is still well intact, but it’s still not desirable, is it? Given many of us don’t have the luxury of choice or control over how much sun our home sees, I wonder if we all need to learn how to better embrace The Dark Side?











