Once the main approach, footsteps guided by hope and routine.
The veranda that led mothers, patients, and staff toward care.
A patient’s room, privacy, dignity, and daily ritual.
A keyhole to the past, security once necessary for healing.
The courtyard view, life framed between shelter and sky.
An entryway that once opened to structured comfort.
Clinical light, empty now, rooms built for rehabilitation.
Nurse’s Hostel, holding decades of human stories.
Nature reclaiming what was once tightly controlled.
Ivy taking hold.
The Nurse’s Hostel front entrance arrivals, departures, and everything between.
Looking outside the Nurse’s Hostel through brick and glass, life once framed.
Lounge doors, quiet after years of routines and roll calls.
Service door to the hostel, thresholds that carried small hopes.
The former morgue, where the hospital faced its quietest duty.
The morgue table, where final care was given with quiet precision.
A preserved marker of the hospital’s most solemn work.
The Soldier’s hall, a space designed for movement and relaxation.
The soldiers’ ward, where recovery began after the battlefield ended.
Staff cottage frontage, domestic calm at the edge of the grounds.
Cottage under trees, shifts ended, lights out, stories kept.
On-site residence, lives lived quietly alongside duty.
Life at the cottage with an empty beer bottle on display.
Press the doorbell.
A blurred look inside the cottage.
Broken windows, open to the elements.
Once a grand fireplace.
The hall of secrets.
A view into the cottage.
The cottage hallway will tell a thousand stories.