Entering

. . . The door was open . . .

I came across this amazing house my parents knew the old woman who lived there, Mary. She was married to a builder who had seven daughters and a husband called Tom. After her husband died she lived on her own for a short time then moved into another house with a friend. She moved out and left the house with all possessions in it . . . to rot basically. The house has eroded and broken down around furniture and possessions that are still visible there. Traces of habitation are very evident even though it has been vacant around twenty years. She died about twelve years ago and the house is owned by her daughter who has left it to continue to rot. It is said that her son wanted to buy it from her to restore it but she refused to sell it thus leaving it to degrade. Its really incredibly beautiful. The wallpaper has peeled off revealing layers of re-papering. Her glasses are still there, a bowl of buttons on the table, kettle on the stove, shoes and handbags, cutlery in the press. Unfortunately the the stairs and upper floor are completely rotten so I can't get up there. I really like that it was just left to time to break down, and also the fact that that all her possessions are still there possibly as she left them, it has left this incredible beauty not just the beauty of deconstruction but also a more melancholy note it has a poetic sense of stillness, of time passing.

This is common in Ireland that when someone dies the house will fall dormant and into disrepair. They can be left for years.

The last two photos are another house I visited , also beautiful.