Journal of Katherine Mansfield
I seem to spend half of my life arriving at strange hotels. And asking if I may go to bed immediately.page 87
“And would you mind filling my hot water bottle? … Thank you; that is delicious. No, I shan't require anything more.”
The strange door shuts upon the stranger, and then I slip down in the sheets. Waiting for the shadows to come out of the corners and spin their slow, slow web over the Ugliest Wallpaper of All.