My Dream House

In my dream house, the pantry whispers secrets of forgotten feasts, while the laundry room hums a tune of domesticity. Each corner, draped in velvet and adorned with gilded frivolities, echoes Wilde: 'To live is the rarest thing in the world; most people exist.'

In my dream house, the pantry whispers secrets of forgotten feasts, while the laundry room hums a tune of domesticity. Each corner, draped in velvet and adorned with gilded frivolities, echoes Wilde: 'To live is the rarest thing in the world; most people exist.'