Do houses have souls?

Dear reader I am fully aware that the title is provocative, especially given that we are not able to say with any scientific certainty that living creatures have a soul - yes, the jury is out on that even for humans, despite our innate feelings on the matter. I suppose I wonder if there is anything that connects buildings with the lives that have gone on within them, or whether they are mere containers for what happens within, with no memory or feeling. What has prompted me to write about this now is seeing so many empty, abandoned houses in Athens, even in the smartest areas; for many, abandonment has predated, but perhaps has been prolonged by, the current devastating economic crisis.

For an incurable romantic like me, abandoned houses immediately make me ask questions:

a. What happened to the people living there? What were their lives like?
b. Why did they leave?
c. Is there no-one left to repair and regenerate the house, especially a beautiful one?

d. Is extinction and new construction inevitable and does the dwelling feel this?
e. Does an aura of those who have lived and died within remain? Their loves, despair, joy, fury?

You may well say, dear reader, that the whole issue is asinine, as houses are inanimate objects - just things, really - so cannot possibly possess any 'living' characteristics or quality. Looking at these empty dwellings now, forlorn, dark, lifeless, I cannot help but wonder; in some of these places, if you are allowed to walk through you can see signs of the life that was there before, forming bits of a greater picture no longer in existence. Can the dwelling feel anything? Is there anything supernatural in these things?

Obviously I have no idea what the truth is, whether there is a spirit world around us existing in parallel, all-seeing and knowing. It is a compelling idea which I accept is most probably false, but it has something about it that appeals. As humans we like the idea that there are things that we cannot see or comprehend, the invisible hand guiding everything, controlling. Perhaps it helps us feel better about doing bad things - it was out of my control, fate, whatever - a funny sort of soothing mechanism. For me, a non-believer in all that, I like to think of life as a continuum, with our dwellings the repositories of so much more from the past than just the details of a lifestyle - a romantic, or perhaps even foolish, thought.