Magritte himself disliked explanations which diffused the mystery of his images. His matter-of-fact style deliberately eschewed the assumption that these images were simply the expression of personal fantasy or private neurosis. They are images calculated to unlock the darker side of the mind. In The lovers, a man and a woman press their together in a fond gesture, almost as if they were having their photograph taken. It could be a holiday snapshot, with glimpses of the green verdure of the Normandy coast and the sea beyond. But through the simple device of the shrouds that cover the lovers' heads, tug back against their faces and curl like ropes across their shoulders, the spontaneous intimacy of this 'holiday snapshot' becomes a spectre of alienation, suffocation, even death. Outwardly so ordinary, even absurd, this image becomes chillingly real in the mind's eye.