WHATEVER’S BEHIND THE WALLPAPER

Something stirs behind the torn and yellowed toile, where faded pastoral scenes of shepherdesses, grazing sheep, and idyllic country gardens are marred by mysterious dark stains that seem to spread a little further each night.

Dusty blue ink, brittle paper, flour paste and damp plaster, and the dry, papery rustle of moth wings, with a faint, clove-tinged sweetness seeping through the walls.