I’m talking about the farm where my grand granny used to live. A very big house, made of wood and clay. A yellowish house with very tall doors and windows. The keys to those doors were huge too, but not bigger that the history behind this house.
In this farm there are still the little houses where the slaves used to sleep, there’s still the water mill, and those huge stone patios and storage places where they used to put the coffee beans after they were dried.
But the place that had always caught my attention was the biggest house, with its endless corridors and living spaces. Thirteen bedrooms and only two big bathrooms. When I close my eyes I still can smell the wood burning inside the stove and the meat being smoked hanging from the ceiling. The scent of the fresh grounded coffee, the fresh fruits on the table. I can even see the pomegrade tree downstairs in the garden. But what have always driven my thoughts was the history behind those walls, those pieces of furniture, those (sometimes creepy) paintings and pictures hung on the walls.
Today I ‘m going to share with you a little bit of this place, a bit of a style and decoration that takes me to a time that I don’t belong to, but I miss it anyway. Every corner, every object in this place brings a piece of history, and that is one of the most precious things one can have: memories. The pictures that I am about to share were took by my cousin (thanks, Fabiana!:)), last time she was there (I haven’t been there for more than 15 years). Join me in this trip to the past and see how a place can be full of soul without being planned. It’s smells like history, is full of character, a real home. Okay, a home who belongs to another time, but still it’s a live example of character and uniqueness.