The roof, covered with old tiles, and beneath, the wood and the hearth that warms. The yards are filled with the scents of flowers, and the trees, look at them, bend under the weight of the fruits. The windows with curtains, white as clouds, and the yard, an embrace full of colors and sounds from the children’s games, laughter, and play, a simple life, yet rich in emotions and love. At night, the moon lights up the alley, and the memories, tightly locked in every corner, in the village house. Life here in this place flows with tranquility, like a fairy tale that doesn’t want to end.