Dirty dishes- pots, pans, plates- coated in flims of grease or broth with spots of this and clumps of that eernaly bound to the exterior. Rotting remains of dinners, jars left open with flies scurrying about, the trash bin mimicking the oder of rotting flesh festering in a sty of pigs.Piles of spoiling garden colections, blackening and burrowing into a winter coats in the summer heat.this is life. this is home. this is the kitchen;with floor tiles missing or cracked covered in dirt, spilled milk, coffee grinds and muddy boot prints hideing the charming little flowers that used to fit in among the shining countertops and the lovely wood cabnits of thirty odd years ago.but now, in the present, in the dust filled air of the present, this little house is a giant catastrophe.