Memories

There is more past than present in our house. 

Each and every wall loosing its colour, fading away, screeching to be remembered, one more time, for one more moment. 

Memories piled up like dust in every nook and cranny, smothering its air

Our house seems to be on its last breath

Surviving one day at a time

I believe the memories of death are more alive in our house than those who live in it.

~memories