There is something sad, at the same time beautiful and fascinating about old abandoned houses.
Life lived and loved through generations.
I have collected photos of abandoned houses for years and years.
Some times I look at one or a few of them. Imagining life as it have been. A little girl sleeping behind a window. A father up and out before dawn to row fishing. A grandmother singing for her newborn grandchild. Preparations for a funeral. A birth. A wedding. Man and wife making love.
A man building a house using his hands, for himself and his wife to be. Dreams in every nail he turned in. Years passed. Generations. And one day the house was empty. Walls painted by laughter and wiping
Columbines outside the wall inspires me to write a tale.
Beauty in hardship.