birds, rainstorms or snow

By spinsterstale

no more manderley

The stairways used to be covered with dust and dead leaves, as the balcony doors were getting painted and the doors often open. I liked them like that. I felt like a ghost in a deserted house.

I planned to take a picture of the stairs and the leaves when the light would be right, but yesterday two men came with a vacuum cleaner and a polishing machine. They we chatting all day in Russian while they were working, for me it sounded like they were in the middle of a deep philosophical conversation about life and the universe.

Now the stairway is clean and shiny. The men were probably talking about football. The ghost got a job.

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