Soft yellow sunlight strolling on the pages of a book; a glass bowl with chrysanthemums lying in it; rich tablecloths, decorated with small, yellow compartments of tapestry; a tree just outside, gently touching the window pane... English country life may be well-organized and remarkably pleasant.
Meditating on the exterior as well as on the interior, in "The Mark on the Wall" Virginia Woolf shows how the easy-going and remarkably pleasant become strange and disturbing.
Does our mind work like... like what, then? And what is that mark on the wall?