After paying the taxi fare and getting out, I stopped to look at the facade of the place since the last time I had been there, the only thing I had noticed was the floor.
The door was made of red-painted wood, so I assumed it had been imported, perhaps from Canada or some other part of North America. It was evident that it had been hand-carved, and judging by the details, it surely wasn't cheap. The walls were also red, although their tone was much duller, perhaps due to the seasonal rain or last summer's sun, because the paint didn't look so worn out. Repainting it would surely cost a fortune.
The house had three floors, and only one of them had a balcony. Perhaps that was the main room of the house. The gardens, of course, I already knew, although not the front ones. They looked except
