The house that was waiting for trust
The phone call came from a lady who knew my father well.
Perhaps we are even related. In small villages, this is not unusual.
The house is located in Talavà, the village where my father was born and grew up.
Talavà is a place where life has never completely faded away.
Families still live here, people who have known each other for generations.
And then there are the houses: well cared for, dignified, but closed for many years.
They belong to women who now live closer to their children, in other towns.
At some point, a difficult decision has to be made.
To sell.
Not because of indifference, but because it is no longer possible to take care of everything.
When I first visit the house, I immediately feel something special.
It is full of life.
Almost as if someone had lived there until the day before.
In reality, it has been closed for some time.
The rooms hold memories, stories, a quiet warmth.
I like the house right away.
But it is not ready yet:
some documents still need to be clarified with the surveyor,
and personal belongings must be removed.
Friends and family help, as they always do in these places.
At this stage, I cannot take any photos.
Still, I decide to do something simple:
I write a short post in my Facebook group.
Just a few lines.
No pictures.
No traditional advertisement.
Someone reads the post.
They call me and want to see the house immediately.
I explain that everything is still in disorder, that the house is not prepared.
But that does not matter to them.
We arrange a visit.
The house is sold within half a day.
Without photos.
Without real estate portals.
Without a formal listing.
Just one thing made it possible: trust.
Trust from the seller, who entrusted me with something deeply personal.
And trust from the buyer, who was able to look beyond the disorder
and see the soul and potential of the house.
Today, a new chapter begins for this house.
After years of silence, voices, laughter and life will return.
A new beginning for those who move in.
And a quiet closure for those who were able to let go.
This is the true meaning of my work:
not selling buildings,
but accompanying life transitions.
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