On stone walls and old weathered doors
I have a place that lives in my heart, one filled with pattern, on stone walls of old village houses, and old weathered doors. With discoloured windows, slowly crumbling into the past.
One that preserves tradition, always in love with slow living. Where familiarity never ceases to be. Badamalos, is close to my heart. It's houses, are like extensions of their surrounding. With local boulders, hand carved and arranged almost in an arbitrary fashion. Patiently dilapidated by time, decorated with old weathered doors, ancient floor boards, with dusty old oil lamps reflecting into dark starry nights. Do you know of places so dear and sure of who they are and where they will be?