The old house, other than its natural gray palette, seemed to be a little deeper in shade now. They used to be 11, and now there were only 8 of them left. The great governess has long been gone, and she took with her everything that surrounds this legendary home: the purest yellow of the sun, the crystal clearest blue of the sky, and the greenest green the grass could ever be; nothing but memories and only to be replaced by mere duplicates. (iba pa rin ang orig).
The old house, producer of this great and still multiplying clan, still stands firm and seems to be proud with what it has accomplished throughout the years. Proud would be an understatement, because the way I look at it, bragging would be the most suitable term. Sigh.
