The kitchen files.
Before we got the house and there was a specific context for all my post-training sensory lust, I stashed away vast quantities of room images on my computer. My hard-drive is stuffed like a hoarder’s attic (or, come to think of it, like the shed here, which heaves and groans with the evidence of our door-buying compulsion). Now we have the house and its sandstone basement, most of my kitchen lusts have had to be put to one side. The kitchen above, for instance, I would love, but for so many reasons couldn’t have.
A few more: