Turning into the intersection of the bustling city, I walk to my grandmother's former home, which exudes both a retro charm and a touch of vitality.   The alley where my grandmother's house is located is a place filled with stories of years gone by. In the night, the old house walls are mottled, like marks blotted by time. Wires crisscross above, like threads of time, entwining the past. Under the dim yellow light, the alley is quiet and gentle; a few kittens sit leisurely, and they don't run away when they see me, as if we've met before. What's hidden here? It's full of the aroma of my grandmother's cooking and memories of playing around as a child—every corner carries deep warmth and nostalgia.