The older generations lived on hard savings and harder pride. They built homes, little summer places, a few fields. Something to leave behind.

Now they’re selling it all, piece by piece, just to get through. To pay bills. To cover medicine. To survive the “golden years” everyone keeps romanticizing.

And the next generations will inherit what, exactly. Receipts. Rent. A lifetime subscription to insecurity.

Slowly, quietly, people are being priced out of their own country. Not with tanks. With contracts.

Foreigners in the place their grandparents built with their bare hands.