I’ve always been attracted to the faded, worn and damaged. The crumbling colonial buildings in Central Havana. The sunbleached colors of abandoned houses in the Arizona desert. Judy Garland. And this door here on the isle of Milos. Blistered and ravaged, its peeling layers suggest a more beautiful past. Those panels below the windows almost look as if they were the result of brushstrokes in a painting by, say, George Nick. And I love the little peephole torn in the corner of the curtain. Deliberate?
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