And so it ends. Or so it begins to end, for the dying has been slow and painful, and it isn’t over yet. The actual death knell will be struck only tomorrow when the house changes ‘registered’ owners just short of its 50th birthday. And then one day after that happens, because of the commercial development juggernaut that dictates our urban lives, a house, this house, seemingly indestructible, will – much like Monty Python’s dead parrot – simply cease to be. The demolition won’t happen overnight, of course. But at the whim of the builder-buyers, who will tear it down to make way for a 5-floor monstrosity of their choosing, it will soon be an ex-house. Already, it looks much the worse for wear, dusty, damaged, missing its main doors, jaws agape as if in permanent shock at its imminent fate.  It will likely stay like this for a while, hanging on its last hinges. But then sometime in the very near future, we will pass by that familiar corner, looking for it out of habit. And poof, the house would have disappeared without a trace. Continue reading →