I just read (while clearly not doing some actual work) about an apartment in Paris that had been closed up since before WW2 and untouched in those 70 years. Even the dust smelled old. It was the home of a “demimondaine” (quoth the Telegraph) who moved to the south of France on the eve of the war and never returned, although the rent was always paid… The lady in question died at age 91 and her grand-daughter inherited the apartment and its belongings “which looked like time had stood still since 1910.” There was a painting of the lady that went for a gazillion dollars, but that interests me much less than the regular everyday objects (and many love letters from her many lovers) left sitting about in the home. Fascinating!!!
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