Don’t…really, is there anything more to say? To paraphrase our Facebook friends: Don’t project your divorce fantasies on the world; don’t eat the gingerbread; don’t let zoning get lax; don’t be ugly. (Photo: Ed Ferris)
This must be the best worst thing ever. Folks have speculated about earthquakes, mudslides, spite, and Photoshop; all we know for sure is that it’s real. And although one observer quipped about a city mouse/country house marriage, we’re convinced that’s not a hug.
The ca. 1870 Gothic Revival house in Indiana is frozen in mid consumption by a brick apartment building. “I love old houses, but I can’t eat a whole one,” says our reader Annie Lynch, playing the part of the aggressor building. A receiving dish swivels toward the victim, channeling its silent scream.
We’d like to imagine that the brick box could slide away to reveal the house’s other half, protected rather than digested. But it’s a long shot. Boarded-up windows, broken panes, and graffiti suggest that residents now dispersed found this one hard to come home to.
