Right now I’m obsessed with thinking about this old house (mansion, almost) that exists near me.
Some back story: I was invited to tour it by authority after its last owner(s) died/disappeared. It is easily the biggest old house in town and has a massive columned porticoe and balcony.
Getting inside was a story in itself, but we finally did and found out the last owners were notorious collectors of miscellaneous matter. Some say hoarders, but I’m not willing to go THAT far. But it was close.
Sadly, the parts of it they lived in were quite squalid and filthy, especially their bedrooms. From what I gathered they were either emerges [sic?] or refugees from the old Soviet Union, and consequently may have pickt up their practices from that time and place. There were Orthodox icons here and there, but mostly just stuff everywhere. I remember a room filled (it was a two story room) with luggage.
The house proper was originally built in the 1850s, and went through several vicissitudes, including serving as subsidized/public/social housing in the 1970s. Finally it ended up in their hands by some means I don’t know.
Outside were things like roof tiles in heaps, a bath tub and, to top it all off, two outbuildings full of stuff and a very weedy and overgrown garden. Evidentially, the woman was a herbalist and grew plants and dried them in the attique, which I remember having like 20 chandeliers in, and more luggage.
Sadly the place was structurally dubious and we (collectively) refused to take any responsibility for it, so now it sits and waits for… what? Probably either collapse or arson, the usual fate of such buildings.