Hill House, not sane, stands against its hills holding darkness within. It has stood for a hundred years and might stand a hundred more. Within, walls continue upright, bricks meet neatly, floors are firm and doors are sensibly shut. Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House and those who walk there walk together.
“I visited the
pumpkin patch yesterday and decided to bring home a pumpkin that in
shape appeared to be a penguin. Friends and family were mystified until I
started painting him.“
