When I encounter an old house marked by layers of repair and quiet devotion, I instinctively pause. The patched slate tiles, the cracked and weathered walls, and the sun-faded colors resemble the textures of a painting—soft, aged, and full of history. In the small gardens with pots cared for over many years, modest flowers bloom with a sincerity that makes me linger even longer. These humble details create a sense of warmth and tenderness, revealing the life that once filled the space. Through these traces left by human hands, the house becomes more than a structure; it becomes a living canvas shaped by time, memory, and care.

As I look more closely, each home seems to carry its own color and its own rhythm of time. The marks of mending, the objects placed with intention, and the atmosphere of a life once lived form an unspoken narrative. The house speaks without words, quietly telling its story to anyone willing to listen. In these moments, I imagine myself becoming a butterfly or a cat—small, gentle beings drifting through the home’s memory-filled air, inhabiting its time even for a brief moment. My work captures these fragile, poetic encounters, inviting viewers to reflect on the beauty of aging spaces and the silent stories that dwell within them.