There is an urge to flirt with voyeurism. It is a profound dynamic that as a society we all, to some degree, engage in. Whether done out of curiosity, concern, awareness, or pleasure, there is an intrinsic need to know. In our Post-Hopperesque society, I find myself exploring neighborhoods in search of a glimpse into these foreign lives. Utilizing the low light of evening, each window transforms into a television screen depicting an intimate story. The perception of suburbia’s strains of isolation manifests itself as a place of ambiguous narratives filled with a sense of melancholia; witnessing a world veiled with an idealistic domestic façade, all the while an illuminated interior is overcome with depression, anxiety, and solitude.