hmmmmm......our new place is in progress and we see some of it coming alive!!! The green wall for the study room, the lavender wall for the master bedroom and the orange walls for the living area. Most importantly, the blue doors and white walls along the corridor.
Everytime I walk past the blue doors, I am always reminded of the views in Greece. White-washed walls of purity with a peaceful and calming shade of blue for everydoor that faces the sun. I think of the heat on Santorini and Mykonos. I think of the smell of the food and shops in town and by the beaches. I think of the faces of the people I met. I think of the very dry and powdery taste of Greek Coffee. I think of the many little alleys and steps on the islands. I think of the steep paths that we climbed to get to the Red Beach. I think of the seafood platter which gave me diarrhea. I think of the climb up the island of...(cannot remember the name though). I think of the swim we had in the hot spring as a result of the existence of the volcano. I think of the donkey ride up the many winding paths from the port to the town area.
In one way or another, our home is made up of our experiences we had together. In one way or another, we have subconsciously collected all the elements of our experiences and placed in this little place call home. This is what home is about.
Everytime I walk past the blue doors, I am always reminded of the views in Greece. White-washed walls of purity with a peaceful and calming shade of blue for everydoor that faces the sun. I think of the heat on Santorini and Mykonos. I think of the smell of the food and shops in town and by the beaches. I think of the faces of the people I met. I think of the very dry and powdery taste of Greek Coffee. I think of the many little alleys and steps on the islands. I think of the steep paths that we climbed to get to the Red Beach. I think of the seafood platter which gave me diarrhea. I think of the climb up the island of...(cannot remember the name though). I think of the swim we had in the hot spring as a result of the existence of the volcano. I think of the donkey ride up the many winding paths from the port to the town area.
In one way or another, our home is made up of our experiences we had together. In one way or another, we have subconsciously collected all the elements of our experiences and placed in this little place call home. This is what home is about.
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