Making acquaintances with my sister's new abode. An 1870's terraced cottage, full of neglected character, in the heart of the City. There's something romantic and heartbreaking about old houses such as this. The cracked paint. The iron latches. The patterned glass. A forgotten history of people and everyday events silently witnessed by these walls.
It seems such a shame to consider that any former splendor shall never be returned to this old lady, should the landlords wish be granted and the cottage demolished. At the very least, her last six months will be filled with love, laughter and kindness.