Autobiography of a House

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I am a house, a lone sentinel, awkwardly situated beside a pond. A survivor of the times, I have seen agitprop, warfare and romance within my grounds. Since my creation in the 19th century, I have been handed down, generation after generation.


Now, I am an abandoned, unwanted building, a reminder of the past, soon to be razed down for modernization. Once elegant, once serene, I am now a memory, a reminiscence of the past.

Delve into my depths, and you will find a stunning biodiversity within my walls. I play the role of shelter to arachnids, geckos, even hardy termites. Lift a rock, and you will see a toad peering out at you. Open a door and you might just be fortunate enough to see a sly fox sitting on the floor. Although deserted by mankind, I am not abandoned by nature.

My companions, the wise willow, the beautiful lily, and the stubborn rock, have never ceased to be there for me. With his wisdom, the willow has advised me on much; with her beauty, the lily brightens my day; with his foolishness, the rock always annoys me. These trusty companions, if not eternal, keep me from boredom.

Now, I am about to be razed, along with my friends, unwilling victims of cruel modernization. Who will take my place, I do not know; what will happen in the future, I do not know.





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