Hôi Han

The books, the scent, an atmosphere that is weight down and poised with expectations, the antique, the heavy, painted wooden beams, the dark stones, the slate floors, you admire the craftsmanship, the patina:
aged and worn.
Stories to be told if only these buildings could speak? They await your presence to give them a voice. Can one imagine the aeons that have gone by? The people who walked and resided in these rooms…