Sometimes there are so much character in an old house that it’s a pity to see it being torn down.
Over the weekend, I got a chance to inspect a really really old house. The type you’d imagine horror stories to be filmed inside. The outside paint was peeling, the kitchen floor was soggy. Yes, soggy. The bathroom ceiling was molding. Disgusting? Yes. It BELONGS to the trash. To top it off, as I walked down the hall way, I turned around to look at the front door, and I saw this:
I thought I was going to get swallowed.
But when I entered the bedrooms, I almost felt the atmosphere changed immediately. Each room, though old, were hauntingly beautiful.
At the end of all this, I forgot about the eery hall way, the scary entry door and the creaking floor boards, all I could think of was the green coloured ceiling and the soft hues. The house may be WAYYY past its prime, but in its crumbled state, I am still able to imagine the way it shone when it was first built.