I can’t even describe how beautiful old painted walls are to me – the flaking paint chipping away to reveal hidden colours, weathered textures and cracks, bold blues and yellows, electric shades of turquoise and orange, old rainwater stains and mould dripping blacks and dark greens onto a haphazard palette… it is the imperfections that are perfect in my eyes. That and the stories the old stones and doorways tell, with their tough exteriors worn smooth where countless feet and hands have rested over the years, timeless yet aged by time all at once. 

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