I've been watching this home for nearly a decade, waiting for the moment when the smiling curve of a crumbling roof finally falls into a frown. That's the anticipation of rubble, when you know that no toil is worth the trouble. No one renovates a two-room shack, no one pulls it back from the brink. Every abandoned building stands over its own grave, a basement waiting to swallow dead memories of the living. Boards and bones, and a few stones to serve as a cairn to mark what once stood here. Will the walls fall first or the chimney? Whatever the wager, I make my bets on the gravity. It takes an awful long time to lose everything, but we've all got a fatal addiction to entropy. Might as well appreciate what we're losing while it goes.