Shelter is a place of refuge from the elements, an escape from the chilling embrace of winter.

I envision the warmth of a cinnamon fireplace, of cobbled stone and children snuggled under wooly throws, while icicles peer in through windows with half drawn curtains while clasping tenuously to the soffits and fascia, while soft golden rays laying warm hues over the cold, blue blanket of snow.

It strikes me then that we exist on a planet whose environs are gradually warming while our homes grow steadily more frigid and stale. Perhaps this is why the masses seek refuge from their homes rather than in them.