Fiction: ‘The Man Who Sold the World’

47 - The Man Who Sold the World
The house looked old and dilapidated from the outside. Tiles had slid off the roof, pigeons were nesting in the rafters, and the paint had peeled away from the walls, leaving a dreary patchwork of greys on the splintered wood. But never was that tired old line truer; that true beauty is found within. The …