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My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go Oscar Wilde (in his deathbed, staring at the horrible tapestry of his hotel room).

Entering this abandoned house was not easy.
Located on the main road of a busy town. First the postman, then the lady in front of the house who decides to clean the windows, then passersby who calmly stop to chat in the street… but, when finally comes a quiet moment to go unnoticed, I dissolve myself over the hedge of the garden and finally infiltrate the back of the house.

Door was wide open.
Crossing the threshold I find myself in this small house consisting in a bathroom, a bedroom, a dining room, a kitchen, a lovely living room and an attic full of old junk.

The house has remained empty and unattended, since the old owner passed away, but how is it possible that there is still almost everything inside?
And relatives? No one worried about recovering the memories and belongings of the deceased?
It’s a situation not too rare, based on my personal experience, but a doubt assails me. And if the owner was not dead as they say? Or if, on the contrary, after his death, the building had been transformed into a home for the elderly? Some detail reminds me that this is just an abandoned building, starting, for example, from the neglect of the outside and the door wide open.

Everything is intact.
Everything is in its place, everything has been left in order. The pearl necklaces are well placed in the drawer, the stacked cups in the sideboard, the bible on the bedside table (God only knows since) and the coats are hanging with care.
Then the eye falls on another interesting detail. Unusual tapestries. But what did the lady taste like? Is not such a combination for the living room a little weird?

A few weeks after my visit, the house was demolished by a bulldozer to give way to a new building.

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