A Room Without Walls

In a sort of alcove without walls, the cave of warm, dug out of the heart of the room itself. The zone of he whose boundaries were constantly shifting, and altering in temperature as gusts of air ran across them. Sometimes again that little room with the high ceiling, hollowed in the form of a pyramid out of two separate stories, and partly walled in mahogany. From the first moment my mind was drugged by the unfamiliar scent of flowering grasses,. convinced of the hostility of the violet curtains, and of the insulate difference of a clock that chatted at the top of its voice as though I were not there. That skillful but unhur