Genevieve is a name which I could give my grandmother; dignified, lofty, beautiful and it does not suit to my grandmother at all. Grandma Gienia lives in the old house which is too big and too important to have anything changed there so the walls turn into ruin and the rooms into lumber. My memories and my childhood blurred somewhere in the corners of the walls and in the backyard bushes, turn into dust rising on furniture and on the old toys. Nowhere else do I feel so much at home like there
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