The house was empty, in need of some work and yet… Looking around the rooms Mitya could see how it could be home. The walls where art could be hung, the doorways which could be used to mark a kids growth from an infant into an adult with nothing more than pencil marks. Perhaps it was optimistic but Dmitry could already see them laying out bread and salt year after year to welcome friends and family into their home.
It was a property that a family could grow into over time, a place where roots could be laid and watered.