The Home Changes With Time :: descriptive essay, observation essay

The Home Changes With TimeWay up in the mountains, above the r each(prenominal)es of the hustle and bustle of the industrialized world, stands a blown-up wooden house with loose shingles hanging off the roof, and the create is chipping from years of wind and snow. The house was constructed on the slope of the mountain, and a long flight of stairs must be climbed to reach the premier(prenominal) floor. The deck extends from the house on three sides, on both the first and second base floors. It is a grand old house.Watching my step carefully, I climbed up the long flight of stairs to the first floor. I reached my lot out to grab the handrail, only to pull it away quickly as I received a sharp prick from the rough unattended wood. When I finally reach the first deck of the house, I retain to stop to inflate my lungs with the barely oxygenated air of 10,000 feet. I walk crosswise the twisted and contorted deck to the dirty-white door lined by aquamarine trim. The trim color seems odd now I dont remember it from my croak visit. I stick the key into the brass handle knob and pretermit the door open a rush of musty air makes my nostrils conflagrate and twitch out of control. Looking across the neat unlived in populate, memories of quantify when people actually lived in this house fill my mind.Spider webs matte themselves around my head as I walk across the room towards the stairs that lead up to the second floor. I look up the dark, tight passageway of stairs, then search for the light switch that is machine-accessible to the bubble light hanging from the slanted ceiling above. After routine it to the on position, I wrap my hands around the handrails on each side and slowly pull myself up the stairs.After reaching the second floor I turned right into an open room light up brightly by the sunlight that pours in through the intumescent windows. thither are a couple of couches placed around the room. A large floral couch, backed up against the wall, is a perfect seat to free and stare out through the treetops at the large snow crest peaks of the Rocky Mountains. Across the room sits a smaller black futon that folds drink into a double bed. Next to the futon, is a tall china locker filled with magnificently colored wineglasses and china plates.