Roots and Crosses

There is an old farm on the edge of our village. It can be reached by a white pebble path near the forest. The old house and barn can be seen behind a small hill but not from the village. This creates the illusion of the farm existing in its own universe. My brother-in-law lives on the farm. During the day, this is an ordinary farm. It is built against the steep hill which is hard to manage during the grass-cutting season. To the other side, there is an overgrown field and meadow strewn with old apple and pear trees. My daughters used to run among these trees when they were little. During the night, however, the farm looks like something from a fairy tale. It has remained the same for decades, with the same pictures and crucifixes on the walls. 18 cats prowl around the farmhouse. At night, they are transformed into mythical creatures. It seems that the farm is under a magical spell that can be broken only at dawn with the first morning sunrays. At the same time, the stories caught between the farm's walls will disappear, too.