The Turgenjev Museum in Oryol made quite an impression on me. The melancholy of the dilapidation, but the Svevo museum in Trieste is above dilapidation.
Four middle-aged women, a middle-aged man, my godson, his mother and me. The beauty of literature: the intimacy of devastation.
To paraphrase Derrida, to love is to love the ruin.