Doll's House

And there she is on the roof, waiting to be rescued.

I saw this house, for the second time, across the road as we emerged from a business meeting (one of the only such meetings I've ever attended that could accurately be described as such) in Rathfarnham, about forming our own production company.

What had struck me about about this house the first time, as we walked past on our way to the meeting, was the huge gaping hole in its roof, as if some Lovecraftian monster had burst forth, taking most of the slates. But approaching from the other direction and facing the front, the hole was invisible. Instead, I was confronted with a different tableau: the big red sign and the doll on the roof. Each angle presented a different arrangement, a kind of accidental installation. Some houses, like some peoples' faces, keep schtum. Others tell curious stories, though not necessarily the correct ones: campfire tales. A gas leak? A fire? Hopefully no one was hurt.