The window of an old house

The window of my bedroom faces a huge wooden house. Someone told me it was listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It must’ve gone through both WW1 and WW2. What happened to the people living in the house during the wars? Who were they? Did they have a good life? Any tragedies happened to these families? I had many questions.

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Some winter thoughts

One of the hardest things for me to handle in the winter months is to get up in the morning. It is all quiet. From the dark sky, the moon is looking down on my tired face. No birds singing, no smell of freshly brewed coffee and croissants, no lively conversations from the neighbours who usually have breakfast on the terrace or in the garden during the summer months.

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