I live in a house built in 1928, by the harbor that flows into what is known as Lake Michigan.
I often wonder about the people who lived here before me. What their lives were like.
What conversations were had in the living room, the dining room, or the kitchen.
Before radio, TV, and the internet.
On the porch that now looks upon a paved and semi-busy street. Even the unused basement should have tales to tell.
My walls have only recently become acquainted with me and Mister Whiskers (the Maine Coon Cat, who is the protector of said property, chasing errant squirrels and guileless birds back into the trees), and the conversations I have with myself and others.
Mainly it is with Mister Whiskers as in “Get the freak out of my way, or you will make me trip with you weaving in and out of my footsteps”.
So far my walls only creak and moan when the wind blows strongly off the shore, although I am positive they have much to say.
What would your walls say?