A long hard look at Euclid street in Cleveland. I’ve no idea why I went there - virtually, as they used to say. Something must have brought me there. It wasn’t this:

That’s just every 1920s utility building ever constructed. Some sort of substation, I presume.

You don’t know if the windows were ever open, or whether it came pre-bricked for your convenience. At least the gesture towards windows indicates they knew the facade needed something interesting. But they all knew that.

A flensed skull:

Look at that mess. You can read its former appearance, if you replace the stuccoed stone areas with the original broad glass windows, but the rest? The first-floor windows don’t fit. The door looks odd.

Windermere is the name of a street, and the neighborhood.

The scale keeps multiplying and the facades get more complex: that happens when an area comes up economically, and buildings like this - retail below, office and/or residential - are the obvious choice to fill the new needs.

As I keep saying, I have warm emotions about 1950s buildings that are just as dull as an old butter knife. They’re so safe. They look like kindly principals.

Don’t ask the employees of City Hall what time it is.

A stately structure of wealth and taste . .

. . . now trashed.

Who knows what this fine old sign once harked?

There’s a record somewhere. A photo passed down to the kids by the owner, a newspaper picture, something that showed what it looked like when it was new.

I don’t think you can get donuts here anymore

Ah, this is why I set this group aside. A sign from better days.

Lest you think it’s all falling apart, the Google Street View cars captured a standard-issue 20s apartment building, still holding up after all these years:

LOL just kidding

Which leads us to a street that hangs on the edge of Euclid.

Google Street View captured the end in all its stages.

Building after building:

It's not in the scheme this year to do multiple visits, but we'll be back next week.

It gets worse.