Readers, I recalled another story from my experience, but it was so long ago I’d forgot all about it. See what you think:
When I was in graduate school, I visited a midcentury modern home. It belonged to an art professor. It was quite beautiful, full of paintings and sculpture. A friend was house sitting, which is how I came to visit occasionally.
The thing with this house was, whilst no one ever saw anything, one would after a short time inside, start to feel a slight sense of unease. This increased incrementally until it became scary and unbearable: one simply had to leave. I felt it more than once and the only time the house felt neutral was during a party with lots of other people present.
There was this cognitive dissonance: the lovely interior vs the sense of darkness.
I later asked the house sitting friend how he…
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