Iris
I've been standing here for over twenty minutes, yet I still can't bring myself to cross the street to my parents' house. From outside, I can see its majesty, it's like seeing a piece of Santorini in the United States.
The style is classic: a white house with a blue roof. A fancy of my mother's that my father made a reality. I remember all the myths surrounding the color blue, whether for the sunlight, a rich person decided the color, or nature... Here it all boils down to my mother's whim; she loved the color, adored Santorini, and was tremendously superstitious, so she decided her house in the United States had to be a traditional Greek sanctuary. For that, nothing beats the protective blue against curses, paired with the white walls.
Thus, she turned this corner into something d
