John William Waterhouse The Lady of Shalott

John William Waterhouse The Lady of ShalottJohn William Waterhouse waterhouse OpheliaJohn William Waterhouse Hylas and the Nymphs
attention-catching reflections in it, just a square patch of difference. And then she remembered what the I Ching had said: a bypath . . . little stones, doors, and openings.
It was a window like the oneas possible. But she examined this one in detail, touching the edge, moving around to see how it became invisible from the other side, noting the absolute difference between this and that, and found her mind almost bursting with excitement that such things could be.
The knife bearer who had made it, at about the time of the American Revolution, had been too careless to close it, but at least he'd cut through at a point very similar to the world on this side: next to a rock face. But the rock on the other side was in Sunderland Avenue in Oxford. She could only see it because of the light: with the sun any higher it probably wouldn't show up at all.She approached the little patch of air with passionate curiosity, because she hadn't had time to look at the first one: she'd had to get away as quickly