I wonder if derelict houses have a gender. I imagine with some degree of certainty that the owners are inevitably male. This impression doesnt come from looking at the derelict sites registers and seeing the names are those of men; its more from a general sensation that without the loving, caressing, gentle female touch that the owners eventually stop giving a fuck about the things that they have, and find themselves (or their houses) falling down into this spiral of regret, decay, self-destruction, with scant regard for the concerns of others. Or maybe its not that the owners or houses are male, maybe its just that they're of either gender, but lonely and isolated in the city where they find themselves, in need someone to come and take them in their hands, reassure them that everything will be OK, that any surface damage or serious structural physical defects inflicted during a rough period of dereliction can be repaired, regenerated... that there is some love there still which can inject life and succour back to where there was once none... This small cottage is located in the little warren of streets near the Blessington Street Basin. Myrtle Street is the continuation of Wellington Street, off Dorset St.
