On the stairs leading to the floor of my attic, the desire is great to find the few paintings left by my father.
At each step, the wood creaking and offers its special atmosphere of a quest full of hope.
The ray of light filtered through the little window telling me exactly where the main beam are supported arrays. Another stride and now… I shall
Gently and grab one of the works is a landscape, a journey, a horizon, or rather an adventure.
I then began to walk to leave the idea of returning to my turn the brushes.
What's more magic to further escape! .