By victor2356 on Skatehive
(Imagen hecha con el editor de canva) Image made with the Canva editor There wasn't just one house where I grew up, as we lived in several different places, both in the town where I was born and in the city we moved to later. However, my first memory of a house was in the city of Valencia, Venezuela. It was a simple house, very simple, made of a material called "Cartón Piedra," a kind of very resistant cardboard. It didn't have many rooms, but it was comfortable. Many things happened in that small town that seemed unreal, but to this day I remember them very clearly. The one that impacted me the most was when Dad asked us to go inside quickly. He seemed nervous and went inside himself to get some holy water. Then he told Mom that he and the other men were hunting for an intruder who had broken into the house of a woman who lived alone, but when they followed him, he would appear somewhere else, as if it were something supernatural. We were all scared and stayed under Mom's protection.