Old flats and new dreams

At first I have to say sorry that I haven't wrote anything here for 3 months?! I am such a bad blogger...
Well I try to change it now.

 I am living in a flat in a house that was built in 1951. It's nothing special but you know I'm a 50's fan and so I sit there from time to time and watch the the doors and the walls and try to imagine what happened here in the 1950s.

   Maybe there was a wife who packed her bags slowly, took her child by the hand, said everything would be okay, smoothed down her skirt, wiped away a tear from her eyes, smiled to her little boy, went to the door, looked at the life she used to know one last time and closed the door silently. She never came back, her husband had cheated on her.
   Or a girl who was standing in front of her mirror, combing her hair and dreaming of Elvis. Thinking things she really shouldn't think and feeling guilty because she knew her parents would tell her it's a sin.
   A young man who bought a chocolate box and a red rose because he wanted to ask the girl next door to go out with him. But she wasn't at home and when he got back into his living room he looked out of the window and saw another man with his girl in his arms beside a car he could never afford.

These are just a few thoughts and I know that nothing happened like I imagine sometimes. But it's interesting to know that I'm a in a room that was the stage for so many different kinds of people and so many different stories within 59 years.

And I guess now it's up to me to write the next scene.