What worthy words can I write about this simple and intimate frame? Who would be convinced that I have become attached to the light which in a brief moment and an ordinary place has spilled onto the floor and the wall? And the moment I saw the photograph I realized I could say nothing valuable about it—yet among hundreds of pictures I see daily this one held my gaze for minutes. I want to look at this humble corner—the two-tone line on the wall, the pattern on the curtain, the disheveled plant in the pot, the calendar on the wall, the bent cushion, and the colorful carpet on the floor. And the shadow of the curtain cast by the oblique light filtering through the window into the interior.