Suddenly, it stroke my mind. I wanted to go back to look at some scratches and scars at the old 'house'. It has been abandoned for quite some times, and when I opened the door, it was cold despite of some remembered warmth deep inside. It was a small house, a house that someone and I created bricks by bricks. The bricks are still there unchanged; the plaster covered nicely except for the some latest bricks that were broken since they were put on in the first place.
Just a short visit and things came up quite a lot. The door is closed again without leaving any trace of my presence there, and I don't think it matters if someone knows I was there. Life is busy. I might go to visit the abandoned house once in while until there is one day another new house is built or until this house is totally collapsed.
Just a short visit and things came up quite a lot. The door is closed again without leaving any trace of my presence there, and I don't think it matters if someone knows I was there. Life is busy. I might go to visit the abandoned house once in while until there is one day another new house is built or until this house is totally collapsed.
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