Describe the room of an older person

Going to my grandma´s house was like entering to another realm, it was like going back in
time. As I entered the picturesque room, the mildly sweet and musty scent embraced me, one
that made me feel safe as if protected. Strolling around the room I behold the memories
hanged on walls. The old, weathered photos in black and white brought all forgotten family
members to life. The room was lit dimly by a tall lamp, with undulating patterns, all lost under
a thick coat of dust. In a corner there was a wooden rocking chair that when being used
creaked all over the room. A small, coal fireplace could be appreciated from the wooden chair.
As watching it I could imagine the wood log’s crackling sound and the smoke taking over the
room.

If you looked out of the ornate window, you would see an overgrown jungle of a garden:
brambles and an oak tree with branches like twisted fingers and gnarled, twisted roots
protruding from the ground like snakes. A comforting scent came from outside, as I peer from
the window, I realized it was from the garden guarded by artistic and scentful flowers. As I turn
around, I find myself with an old-fashioned rustic wood table, full of scratches, you could tell
that each mark had a story. Upon the table there was that stylish retro-vinyl player whose
beauty was covered by blankets of dust. On my left I could identify the cabinet where the old
vinyls were kept, you could see that they were all arranged very delicately, and their age
explained itself. I grabbed one and when I took it out the scratches implied the years of use
and talked about a time of life and dance.

The room was quiet, not even a fly could be heard. Standing in there made me come to my
senses about all that was being left behind. To distract myself, I continued looking at my
surroundings, the shelves were full of small delicate and ornamental porcelain figures that
time did not take care of. On their right there were different sets of teacups with stains from
past matte or coffee. That room told stories, stories of a different time. At last, I came to earth,
something had entered to me, a sense of sadness coming from good memories, I did not
understand what was happening. Until I realized, nostalgia had invaded me.

As I sat in my room I grabbed the dusty and weathered photo left in a box of memories. I
blowed it and the dust all flew away.

Night walks in the beach, feeling the coldness of nightime but comforting sand between the
fingers. The huge moon ascending as I walk illuminating the night sky while feeling the night
cold breeze brushing my face giving me a sense of freshness after a day of feeling the warmth
of the sun irradiating on me all day. The dark-blue sea crawling onto the sand effortless, and
the sound of the small waves but loud enough as you heard them crash. The cold wind started
to get to me but as walking in the chilly nighy pictures of the sunsets and wave memories flash
back taking me back to that moment. On the distance small lights could be seen moving, color
lights were illuminating the sky and exploding. A show was occurring in the sky. Music was
being listen to, and as I approached people were to be seen moving along with the ryhtem.
You could aprecieate in their smiling faces that they were having a good time as they added no
more than laughter to the night. In moments like that I felt fulfilled.