After the Last Winter

Once built for permanence, the house remains only in form. Winter light reveals what time has taken away - peeling paint, empty windows, and a structure no longer claimed or maintained. There is no drama here, only quiet endurance: a rural home outlasting its purpose, held in place by habit, gravity, and memory.

What lingers is not the building itself, but the absence of those who once filled it: voices carried through rooms, holidays marked by light and warmth, the ordinary rituals of family life now reduced to implication. The snow does not conceal the decay; it clarifies it, settling over a place where celebration, routine, and belonging have withdrawn, leaving only the shape of what once was.