Life on the farm followed the same rhythm for decades. The living room was the heart of the house, with green plush sofas, an old stove, and religious figures on the mantel. It was the place where days ended, just as they had for generations.

The kitchen remained simple and unchanged, with yellowed tiles and worn cookware. Comfort and luxury had little importance here; routine and modesty defined daily life. As the years passed, life slowly turned inward. Illness became part of the household, and medicines and syringes appeared alongside everyday objects. A brace standing next to the bed quietly revealed failing mobility.

An old uniform hanging by the fireplace was kept with care, a reminder of an important past. When life here finally came to an end, the farmhouse was not cleared out. The stove went cold, the door was locked, and time was left behind in the rooms. What remains is a silent house, preserving the story of a life that slowly faded away.