Everything about the room in the old nursing home seems to smother visitors with uneasiness and the feeling of being unsafe, as if to keep visitors from calling. One must enter through an impossibly heavy, protesting metal door that closes off the safety of the outdoors with ominous locking noises. From right by the door, one cannot help but notice several objects in the room that disturb and frighten; fake, furry ivy slithers around the ceiling edge above while pale, dim, buzzing lights in the surrounding ceiling area stare down. Small tables filled with dark, unsolved jigsaw puzzles are mysteriously closing in from three of the distant corners of the room. On the shelf far opposite the door, busts of hissing cats are visible. Frighteningly large, looming bay windows in the walls to the right and left of the door frame the most depressing pieces of the outside. Beyond the un-comfortingly false aura of safety created by the rows of protecting banisters and railings by the door, the strangeness and hostility of the room increases. Both bay windows help add to this effect with their suggestive burial of dead stink bugs in the dust on their ledges. Backed against the indented wall to the left of the door, a disturbingly dirty, black leather couch growls while poisonous-looking, fake house plants stand by it. Several large, menacing posters are pinned above the couch, shouting threats about the latest fatal flu outbreaks and angry warnings about bingo sign-up deadlines. Some of the queerest and meanest looking old folks in the home are silently crouched against this indented wall, armed with walkers and scowls. The eerie and dangerous atmosphere is painted on in the uncomfortably sleepy colors of tan, cream, off-white and gray, permeated with the nauseatingly evil stench of moth-balls and then truly brought to life by constantly attacking hypnotic music. Clearly, the room in the old nursing home is a visitor repellant, generating unease and feelings of vulnerability in guests.