I found myself in a place brimming with stories. The house, empty, ignited my imagination. It whispered tales of times long past, evident through its worn walls, chipped doors, and faded wallpapers. With two entrances, two separate bathrooms, and a single kitchen area, it posed a question: Who had lived here? Estranged foreigners taking turns to cook, or a married couple asserting their individual spaces? Now vacant, the house stands on the brink of demolition, soon to make way for a prefabricated structure, a more convenient and sterile beginning.