It started to slowly disappear, bit by bit when my Grandparents passed away some 30 years ago. The House. I remember sitting by the large, wooden round table waiting for Viennese eggs my Grandma has served me every time I visited her after the school. I loved to hear again and again her curious stories about riding horses she has owned once. I also remember my Grandpa, teaching me how to play chess on a small foldable magnetic chess-board. I was only 10 years old. And now the House is disappearing. Wallpapers liberated from the humid walls. The once white curtains turned grey from the dust and pigeons and wasps have found their new home here. I somehow feel the House is still waiting for me to bring it back to life, its former glory.