Forgotten places. The dead walls.

Images of the world around me.

Year after year, people grow older and young people leave, and towns, our home towns, became empty. Many of them are now just a collection of walls, broken doors and windows and the streets are only populated by the remains of those living things that our ancestors planted. Sometimes, when the wind blows or the water runs, it is possible to hear the sound of the kids playing, when there was a school, or the steps of the women going to the church. Now, only sometimes, we return to them in our memories.

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