There was a house. A big beautiful house, full of wonderful things, things from around the world. People lived in the house. But these people were not kind to the house, who had never hurt anyone at all, but rather done just the opposite and sheltered them for the decades that it stood. But people destroyed the house, and all that was precious in it. They ruined the floors, the doors. And even the walls, until there was barely any shelter . But the house still stood in the woods, oblivious to it’s ruin. The house just stood not knowing, it would be in total collapse soon. It stood dark and ominous over the grounds surrounding it. It’s towers and it’s windows broken, but it’s beauty still enough to be spoken, It stood for such a very long time, no one came in, no one left, it just sat, alone, bereft.
And here it would remain in ruin. Nothing but empty rooms. Beholden to so many hearts, now all gone, and turned to art.
