The house is a container of family souls. A space that contains the best and the worst of those who inhabit it and is learned by heart until the heartbeats of the loved ones who grow in it.
The walls treasure the sounds of the family and distinguish the presence from absence. You can feel it in the air of the house when a new member is born and when he or she leaves.
The first house of our childhood memories leaves a mark on us, marks us. We can walk through it mentally almost as if we were stepping with our new size. The house of our adulthood is different, it does not look like that one even if we try to reproduce it, it contains another essence, other dreams, other struggles.
Although, not always the house that shelters us is our home. Home is where our heart is. That's why, my home at this moment is not in my house, but in the house where my daughter moved with my grandson and my heart went with them. So now I literally live in the house of my daughter that I have made my home, without totally neglecting my own house.
So the house I am showing you is not my house, but it is my home in this time of quarantine. A wonderful place where, by divine grace, I am following my heart.
I live in Cumaná - Sucre State - Venezuela, bathed by the Gulf of Cariaco, but I was born in Yaguaraparo, a town on the other side of Sucre State, bordered by the Gulf of Paria.
I have always loved the sea and now I contemplate it from the balcony at sunrise and sunset, especially because it is only a few steps away.
For me, it is a blessing to be able to swim when I want in its crystal clear waters and to wander the shore in solitude, as the beach is deserted due to the quarantine, but I take advantage of it and enjoy it because I live in a building facing the sea surrounded by palm trees and many birds.
I always wanted to live very close to the sea and this dream had not been given to me until now, so my heart was impregnated with the love that is inside and outside these new walls.
Now, I feel that the house is a bird that grows like our spirit and lands where the heart warns it. It flies high or low according to the winds and lives on memories and dreams, on steps, on roofs, on beats, on footprints, on voices, on sunrise and sunset twilights, more than on walls.
02/08/2020
In response to @zord189 in Hive Creative Contest | The Black and White House (Contest Details)
The photos and words are mine as the look that flies and gets lost in worlds of dreams.
@tipu curate
Upvoted 👌 (Mana: 24/32)
Thank you!