Niria Kountouri
Stories (2)
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Rosso
The old wood floor was creaking. The roof was leaking and the wood studs were significantly broken. The moisture of the Greek island didn’t help but continue deteriorating the buildings wooden joists. Pieces of the ceiling painting were collapsing little by little, day by day. The marble cornice had already cracked when this big cymatium piece fell on the street. The Department of Buildings gave them no option but to abandon the house. Rosso was its name, given by the locals. Rosso because blood had watered its walls. But it was still their inheritance. “We don’t care about your inheritance. The house belongs to the city now. Whatever remains of it of course. The house... The house... The house...”
By Niria Kountouri5 years ago in Criminal
Rosso
The old wood floor was creaking. The roof was leaking and the wood studs were significantly broken. The moisture of the Greek island didn’t help but continue deteriorating the buildings wooden joists. Pieces of the ceiling painting were collapsing little by little, day by day. The marble cornice had already cracked when this big cymatium piece fell on the street. The Department of Buildings gave them no option but to abandon the house. Rosso was its name, given by the locals. Rosso because blood had watered its walls. But it was still their inheritance. “We don’t care about your inheritance. The house belongs to the city now. Whatever remains of it of course. The house... The house... The house...”
By Niria Kountouri5 years ago in Criminal
