Down on the Corniche, there aren't many old style houses left. This is one of the few that remain.
There's a part of me that feels a little claustrophobic when looking at patterns like the ones above the doors. I look knowing that the lines, angles and intersections could continue in every direction for ever and ever in unending and ever-repeating mathematical perfection. It's always on my mind whenever I see these patters. I can't help feeling drawn to the infinite since only a small slice of it is seen here.