"the yellow wall-paper"

October 21, 2014

THE YELLOW WALL-PAPER

Q: Is this a ghost story?

I believe in my "Humble" opinion, that this is NOT a ghost story but merely a nervous breakdown.     The narrator is experiencing certain symptoms  that may be well related to post dramatic stress and depression. Also it seems but it's not clear that she gave birth recently and moved to a big old       mansion. It is very clear as well that her relationship with her husband is taking a big toll on her. She feels lonely, sad and manipulated by those people around her. By a few things she described; it could be said that she is being abuse by the way they treat her and don't let her do things that she likes to do. For example; keeping her in that room against her will and not letting her work or not being able to see her baby and the relatives. It is clearly a form of abuse.

I also believe that this is not a ghost story but just the story of an unhappy women that is desperately in need of love and affection, that is emotionally distress and no one tries to understand the way she feels. Also the fact that she is very sarcastic doesn't help her case. and let's not forget that she is also taking medicine prescribed by her husband who happens to be a doctor

old man

He was in the audience, sitting with his legs and arms crossed and swinging his head to the music. The eyes focus on the piano. His salt- pepper hair was slightly covered by a green baseball hat. His face showed a few wrinkles and the tone of his bright blue eyes was magnified by the thick lenses he wore. The sunshine was gone and it had rained. Suddenly he leans forward slowly, reaches under his seat, grabs a bag and pulls a grey rain coat that was inside of it; unfolds it and puts it on quickly and goes back to the same position and same movements that he was doing before. After a couple of minutes he yawns and opens his arms to stretch and then goes back to folding his arms. Then he stops moving his head and remains still in the same position. After several minutes his head falls upward and immediately goes up. Almost at the same time he opens his arms and starts clapping in slow motion. Looks around and over his shoulder, grabs his handbag from underneath gets up and leaves.

She had thick, dark and black hair. Almond shaped eyes, pale skin and slim figure. Her eyes were set on a piece of paper that she was holding with her left and. On the other hand holding a plastic fork that she was using to eat a salad that was on top of the table. She had her legs crossed and on top of them had a brown leather bag that she was using to support her elbows. Every now and then she would alternate between eating and reading but mostly her main focus was on the paper.

He was calm and peaceful, sitting still on top of a bench with his legs crossed. His back was straight and his arms were resting on top of his knees and his thumb was connecting the index finger on both hands. His eyes were closed and didn’t even blink to the sound of people walking by. He had short black hair, long sideburns and bushy eyebrows.

The pigeon was soaking wet, it looked like it had a bad hair day but he didn’t care. His damped feathers were all over the place and he swaddle like a penguin pecking around for food. He kept looking for food like there was no tomorrow and didn’t mind being too close to people that were sitting on the chairs next to the tables. After a couple of minutes he got fed by somebody, picks the food and flies away to the end of the world