it’s sad to leave behind a house.
When one returns, everything sensual and remembered is absent!
It’s almost like kissing the cold moist forehead of a deceased parent: it shockingly feels like stone and lacks that soft giving and accommodating family warmth!
Building become emotionally numb without us!
There has to be one remaining living thing, perhaps the rose bushes you planted or a clematis vine or flowers that keep coming up. But that only give back the barest of feelings and not a fraction of what would be there if instead, an elderly relative still lives there and one can share stories!
I am fascinated by and can’t figure out the geometry that created the fabulous repeated reflections of the window frames!
I wish you joy and new adventures in your new home: a writers group, photography club, a park with mature trees and interesting paths!
Asher