Things that are beautiful without being there

We've moved the shower into bathroom.   
Gone is the pallet on the terrace and the towel drying on the line.  
We are half way to normality.
The bathroom has an old porcelain sink, bath and shower but no water, as yet, comes out of the taps.  A bidet sits incongruously in the corner.  Jean Sabatier's configuration of his living space is as eccentric as he was.  The grubby toilet is up in the attic and the bidet on the floor below.  To wash your bum and bits you'd have to have walked downstairs with your knickers around your ankles.
The bath, which in Jean's day was full of fish, is gravelly under foot with the plaster I knocked off the walls a while back. The bidet serves as a receptacle for shampoo and soap and the sink is full of cotton buds.
The décor is eclectic; remnants of perky 70's wallpaper which resisted my attempts to strip the walls and the ceiling, black tiles to shoulder height and a turquoise mosaic floor.
But, but, but but, the bathroom light casts the shadow of the broken ceiling lamp onto the staircase wall which I hadn't noticed before.
I never took before and after renovation photos.  I have the before and after in my eyes and words.  
People visit and say that we have a lot to do but they have no idea of what has already been done.