“All morning I went from one door to another. Some rudely shuttered. Some receiving their full charge of daylight. All empty and unhomely. It was a rich house. On which Time had breathed his tarnish and dust had scattered disillusion. The spider swung there; the bloated tarantula scampered on the cornices; ants had their crowded highways on the floors of halls of audience; the big and foul fly, that lives on carrion and is often the messenger of death, had set up his nest in the rotten woodwork, and buzzed heavily about the rooms.”
Robert Louis Stevenson, “Olalla”, 1885.
A Bird's Eye View of Fashion, Food, Travel, Culture, Beverage and Curiosity 