I prefer English gardens to French gardens. Its not that order and harmony are distasteful to me; nor is it that the imitation of nature delights me. Its simply that I like not knowing exactly where I am.
A room that is doubtless in an ancient castle and that appears to be round. At its center, on a bier, a coffin holding a maiden in white. Four candles at the corners. On the right, almost directly facing whomever imagines the room, a single window, tall and narrow, through which can be seen, between two distant mountains, a small patch of ocean.
I'm always struck by the contrast between the idealized images and the people who're so heavily invested in them.