The man's eyes wandered around the parlour, and through them I saw what he did: a dirty room full of junk. It had never been anything more than that, but for some reason - the heat, maybe, or the couple's heavy almost contagious sense of dispair - every gouge and smudge jumped violently into focus. More depressing still was the thought that I belonged here, that I fit in.

~ David Sedaris, "This Old House" in "When You Are Engulfed in Flames"