This place is full of memories...
Everything has a meaning, a voice, a perfume, a story
The piano keys know the songs that have touched me
The walls the images that spoke to me in a thousand languages
The floor my hesitations and restless moments
The chair that supported my body for so many years
The ceiling that watched over me
In the most illuminating occasions
And in the darkest ones too...
The windows witnessed my days of melancholy
My dreams being projected to the space outside
My tears, my fears, my joys, my many emotions
This room could speak volumes about me
It has been my companion for so long
That is why I think that houses have the owner's life inventory
In each and every corner
The houses understand people the way they really are
As inside these places people do not use masks
They can breath their essence
Untouched by intrusive/curious eyes of others
It is interesting...
Each house has a personality
A blend of each one that lives under its roof
A house is a sanctuary of thoughts, feelings, things, time
Houses could write endless books
From the most mundane to the most extraordinary stories ever
All the translation of lives in motion
People parading their selves
In the most absolute transparency...