I'm slightly apprehensive about the basement in this house - it's not just the cockroaches (dead and alive), nor just the fact that the first time I used the drier, a dead lizard came out with my clothes, nor even the expired refrigerator, propped open with an oar. There's just something faintly sinister about it ... Today, I thought I'd satisfy my curiosity and open a half-blocked-shut door. Inside, as I'd suspected/feared, was, indeed, an old toilet (all ancient US basements have redundant toilets, so far as I can see, until someone gets round to removing them). But there were also some very strange wall-paintings, which manage to bring together a whole lot of styles and symbols, glimpsed in one thin crack of light. I decided to close the door on them. Three more nights here ...
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