In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

41 Winter, reflected in our keen houses The sky is plain and the bushes thin, the walks bare, the structure broad, appealing. The room a box, the home— nothing will grow where it is.The sky bends against the planks. Lonesome, uncomplicated curve. The landscape working along so even. The stairway, the rail, the back of the chair. The body of a lamp, a globe. Curtains that scrape against the floor.The fabric so thin the seams show through. The light creates the effect which cannot be so different from wavering. ...

Share