can be told be told by old doors. This one, patinated and weathered, the Mediterranean Blue paint revealing its age – and enhanced by a fusion of fresh new growth – in Andalucía’s Torrox Pueblo A thing of beauty is a joy forever;Its loveliness increases; it will neverPass into nothingness; but still will keepA bowerContinue reading “Many A Tale…”
“On the old door creepers spring,And a stillness reigns in the air unstirred by the beat of a wild bird’s wing.Those who see believe the old house grieves with the grief of a sentient thing.”Paraphrased from The Deserted Homestead By Edward Dyson
The delightful Art Nouveau facade of Le Petit Café de Collioure in the south of France.
From the venerable door of the President, to the Pollack like, shabby chic of the old door to a deserted cottage at Faugheen, near my old home village of Bunmahon in Ireland’s County Waterford.
Autumn tinted Boston Creeper winding around the door of the President on the campus of University College Cork, reminding one of the adage “education is the key to unlock the golden door of freedom”
Tocco da Casauria in the Province of Pescara in the Abruzzo region of Central Italy…