There are two scenic paintings on the walls here. The pictures almost look like windows, but for the absence of frames. They feature two different seasons, winter and fall, it's nice that way, as if you are looking at the same world at different times of the year without waiting for the leaves to fall on their own free will and give way to the cold purity of winter. There is a single lamp, casting a dull light over the room, it has created several little shadows over the insignificant objects upon the desk. After closer observation I realize there is but one object, a single off-white mug. The floor appears to be wood, but it's merely a representation by meticulously detailed tiling. The mood is one of silent peacefulness. A penetrating simplicity, of sorts. I deduce that it must be either early morning or late evening, for there is no light coming in beneath the door and I saw the skylight in the hallway as I came in. The plant in the corner adds a bit to an atmosphere of not tension but near nothingness. Everything seems to be tall here, the trees in the paintings, the chair tucked in behind the desk, and even the simple little lamp. The plant is a spiked tropical, it reaches almost three feet up the wall and looks almost obscenely perfect in relation to the rest of the room. This place is shrowded in a dark mystery and I can't quite place why, or how it is that I arrived here..