I wrote a piece of fiction to go with these images of an abandoned house, illustrating the eerie silence that envelops the crumbling walls and overgrown garden. As I delved deeper into the story, the forgotten echoes of the past began to emerge, trying to paint a picture of the lives once lived within those decaying rooms. The shadows seemed to whisper secrets, share my take of the the mysteries that lay hidden beneath the layers of dust and time.
In the heart of a forgotten village, there stood an old, rundown house that held the whispers of its vibrant past. It had a faded, cracked exterior and a barely intact tiled roof, with memories of joyful days trapped in every corner. The walls, now worn and discolored, showed glimpses of the brick and stone beneath, framing the door and windows like silent guardians of time. This house used to belong to the Georgiou family, who left it behind decades ago following a series of unfortunate events. The wooden door, slightly open and well-worn, hinted at laughter and love that once filled the space, now muted by silence. The windows, partially covered with old shutters, were entwined with greenery, as nature gradually took back what people had forsaken. Surrounding the house, wild grass danced in the breeze, while a bare, spindly tree reached for the sky—a testament to resilience and a haunting reminder of the family’s departure. Above, the heavy clouds seemed to grieve for a life that used to buzz with energy, as if the past longed to be acknowledged once again.
The deteriorating corner of an old, rustic roof made of curved terracotta tiles, many of which are covered with patches of moss and appear weathered and broken. Below the roof, the wall shows signs of decay with exposed bricks and crumbling plaster, revealing various textures and layers of construction materials. Bare tree branches extend across the lower left of the frame, contrasting with the warm earthy tones of the roof and wall. The sky is clear and bright, adding a subtle contrast to the aged, textured structures in the foreground. Can you see a doll on the roof, or is it just me? What is the story there?
The weathered window set into an old, deteriorating wall once belonged their daughter Eleni spent her childhood. The window shutters are wooden and painted red, but the paint is severely chipped and peeling, revealing the worn wood beneath. Eleni would often sit by this window, dreaming of adventures beyond the walls, her imagination ignited by the vibrant world outside. Below the window, overgrown green plants and small yellow flowers grow along the ledge and the base of the wall, remnants of Eleni’s once-cared-for garden where she picked flowers for her mother. As she grew older, the dreams by this window transformed into aspirations of travel, writing stories inspired by the landscapes she envisioned. The wall itself shows signs of decay, with cracked plaster and exposed bricks, echoing the passage of time since the family moved away, leaving behind a rustic and abandoned atmosphere with earthy, muted colors, which now serve as a silent witness to her cherished memories. This window became a portal for Eleni, connecting her past with a future filled with hopes of re-exploring the wild beauty beyond the walls that once confined her.
Ritva Sillanmäki Photography 