Home
Death lives in an extradimensional realm called Death's Domain. Within the domain, his home looks like a Victorian house with a garden and is well tended, but is predominantly in shades of black and decorated with a skull and crossbone motif. It is called "Mon Repos", (Quirmian for "my place of rest"), and is much larger on the inside, because Death has not quite mastered the art of scale. Similarly, because he does not quite understand real distance compared to perspective, the surrounding terrain is actually relatively close, but blurred to appear farther away. Death adds a large golden wheat field to the grounds after the events of Reaper Man. There is also a tree swing, created by Death for his granddaughter Susan, which swings through the trunk of the tree.
In addition to the inside of the house being larger than the outside, there are doors that reach a height of several yards and at the same time are only few feet tall. He has a bathroom which he never uses, with a bar of bone-white, rock-hard soap and a towel rack with hard towels attached to the rack. The only usable items in the bathroom are a small bar of regular soap and one normal towel, both brought there by his manservant Albert.
The plumbing of his house has greatly confused him and in Death's Domain, it is explained that the pipes are completely solid, as is the u-bend for the florally-decorated toilet. The towels he originally constructed are also useless; he didn't realise that they had to bend, fold and be soft. In his 'bedroom' (which he never actually sleeps in), he has a violin, which he attempts to play. However, as with everything in his domain, he cannot create, only mimic. Therefore, he creates a racket, instead of music. This is said to greatly frustrate him.
Read more about this topic: Death (Discworld)
Famous quotes containing the word home:
“It is a curious emotion, this certain homesickness I have in mind. With Americans, it is a national trait, as native to us as the rollercoaster or the jukebox. It is no simple longing for the home town or country of our birth. The emotion is Janus-faced: we are torn between a nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.”
—Carson McCullers (19171967)
“It aint home t ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o wrapped round everything.”
—Edgar Albert Guest (18811959)
“O Lord! I dont know which is the worst of the country, the walking or the sitting at home with nothing to do.”
—George Bernard Shaw (18561950)