Жовті шпалери

           Itisabig,airyroom,thewholefloornearly,withwindowsthatlookallways,andairandsunshinegalore. Itwasnurseryfirstandthenplayroomandgymnasium,Ishouldjudge; forthewindowsarebarredforlittlechildren,andthereareringsandthingsinthewalls. 

           Thepaintandpaperlookasifaboys’schoolhadusedit. Itisstrippedoff—thepaper—ingreatpatchesallaroundtheheadofmybed,aboutasfarasIcanreach,andinagreatplaceontheothersideoftheroomlowdown. Ineversawaworsepaperinmylife. 

           Oneofthosesprawlingflamboyantpatternscommittingeveryartisticsin. 

           Itisdullenoughtoconfusetheeyeinfollowing,pronouncedenoughtoconstantlyirritateandprovokestudy,andwhenyoufollowthelameuncertaincurvesforalittledistancetheysuddenlycommitsuicide—plungeoffatoutrageousangles,destroythemselvesinunheardofcontradictions. 

           Thecolorisrepellent,almostrevolting; asmoulderinguncleanyellow,strangelyfadedbytheslow-turningsunlight. 

           Itisadullyetluridorangeinsomeplaces,asicklysulphurtintinothers. 

           Nowonderthechildrenhatedit! IshouldhateitmyselfifIhadtoliveinthisroomlong. 

           TherecomesJohn,andImustputthisaway—hehatestohavemewriteaword. 

           *** 

           Wehavebeenheretwoweeks,andIhaven’tfeltlikewritingbefore,sincethatfirstday.