A couple of years ago aunt G. (my grandma’s sister, who’s still well and alive) decided autonomously to move to a nursing home. Ever since her place, an old house in the town centre, has been shut.
That house is a time capsule. You enter it and you are immediately tele-transported to a few decades ago, unhurt and all in one piece. Furniture, appliances, all objects endow the house with nostalgia. With all those religious pictures decorating the place, the house looks like the Christian paintings section of a respectable museum.
I hardly know aunt G. All my interactions with her were reduced to sporadic encounters at my grandma’s place, plus the inevitable yearly visit during Christmas. All the same, I believe her place and thus her memory deserve to be consecrated. Here are a few pictures for that.