Sometimes place, like Macondo the village in "one Hundred Years of Solitude," takes on a character of it's own. It has a life that transcends a house or a family or even a heritage. It is more than a communal dwelling where the inhabitants greet each other at the grocery store or hang out at the local coffee shop and gossip. The place becomes a character with as much life as the people who live there. Magical things happen that can't quite be explained and events in the "real" world seems as distant as shots of Neil Armstrong taking a walk on the moon. You can write about this place and you can dream of it, but you'll never completely capture the essence of the place that is beyond time.