Elvis bought this house at a mere 22 years of age for about $100,000 but he was already an international pop star. His parents lived with him and he continued to call it homebase until his death.

There’s a strange contradictory effect in place as you walk around inside his surprisingly small but lavishly decorated house. The estate exists to venerate the myth but an unavoidable effect of preserving his personal effects as frozen in a moment in time where he was overweight, strung out on pills, and prone to riding around his lawn in a golf cart with a pistol in his hand is to provide visitors a kind of sick spectacle of American excess. But after climbing around the inside of a certain corner of his mind for an hour or two, and on his planes and trophy room, I discovered that I basically kind of liked the guy.

RIP, Elvis.

(Definitely check the photos.)