I love wood.

Wooden cottages and cabins are just so lovely, but when it comes to home. A real one. For me it must be a mix of brick and stones.

As one of those still dreaming about my own little home and few trees, I am just somehow… acting with houses like with dogs which I meat on my way. I smile to them. If they wanna be cuddled, they will be… if they wanna jump on me, well… I love dogs, still, hoping it will happen close to the sea. LOL

But houses… oh my.

I love them. Love the windows uneven, those old walls, new walls, gardens, doors and paint and trees… Here people paint homes in different colors, paint crazy, paint calmly. We have the whole farm painted in one shade of blue!


But this yellow house is so different.

It watches me?

How do I not run away?

Because somehow the old-fashioned wall, full of crinkles, wrinkles and scars is for me such an inspiration. For a story about a house which saw too much. So it closed its eyes… and then opened it after years.

After eons for most of us.

It wanted to move, but could not. The old bricks and walls were to fragile. What? Houses can not walk? Trees can, so they can too! Listen how a loved home breaths, how it calmly cuddle its family. And how a lonely one cries… or becomes angry of its loneliness. Some of them, even when somebody will fall in love with them, can not live. Become even more angry, even violent.

Am I scaring you? Oh well… LOL

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