If walls could talk, they would tell a story of hope, loss, love, sorrow – of life.
We make a house, a flat a room ours, refurbish, fill it will scent of me, and you. Sounds of laughter, tears, love and hate screamed and spoken to another filtrated through the fabric of furniture, bouncing against the walls. Christmas dinner being cooked, bread baked, the smell of ripe bananas and coffee.
All gone when you move, all the memories over plastered by a new human being decorating and washing the remnants of you away.
A circle of life, a sadness, or relief, that everything changes, always.