When the old man left this world there was no other caretaker. Everything is the way he left it. There is an empty bottle of wine on the table and glasses hazy with dust in the dining room cupboards. Pictures of people long dead hang on the walls. Leaves blow in from the broken entrance and into the old pantry where old rusty tins and cutlery lie scattered on the floor.
There are stories in the walls here and I get a sense of being watched while I am photographing. As I leave I can't help saying "Thank you for your time.."
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