Between the cool-quarried kitchen and paint-faded south facing door runs a windowless wall sugar-papered with childhood dreams.
Memories of roughly folded gifts squirreled in satchels, crossed creases still intact; curled corners fixed with shiny pins.
Luminescent paint heartens the darkness of a pitch grotto anticipating a flicked switch to illuminate dimmed histories of abstract symbols, visionless figures and countless fingers.
The small pink fists that captured Time's most precious pieces, now live with vaguely painted hope of sheering unsteady walls in their uncertain world.