I love this story. I love the picture of this beautiful, creepy piece of history sitting in the middle of an ordinary neighborhood. It reminds me of some of the glorious, dilapidated houses I admired in Brooklyn when I lived in Bed-Stuy, and it reminds me of Buenos Aires too. You can’t look at a place like this without wanting to know its story.
It makes me happy that someone has enough money to buy this place and enough sense to respect the house and its history.