My father grew up in this house just above the Pacific Ocean in Lima. My grandmother lived here until she died 2008. I spent a lot of time here and was scared to death more than once. I knew also the smell of roasted bread with tones of butter, the smell of Rive Gauche from my grandmother who taught me all about Paris through an imaginary game where she made me see every street while a chauffeur without a tongue drew me wherever I wanted.

My brother and his family who lived there for a while their first-born was a toddler had a lot of spooky things to tell me about as well. And my daughter, who slept here several times to spend time with my cousin (they are almost the same age) on our visits to Lima, told me the scariest stories of them all.

Around the time of these pictures my aunt started doing some changes to the house. It accentuated the haunted feeling. At the same time she was writing a novel about this haunted house were she becomes her mother.

Then there were heritage conflicts and some years later the house was sold and the money split. It´s an attractive neighborhood with an ocean view and beautiful parks. The old houses are disappearing constantly at a speed too fast being replaced by giant blocks of concrete with lots of flats.