Door
The Door I want to tell you about a door. It is blue, or green, or whatever suits the need for its use. It smells of sandalwood, crisp autumn days - of hidden, silent summers that leave only embers of possibility to note their footprint. Sounds waft their way to your ears and other senses - as if the idea that listening for sounds was the simply the easiest way of responding to vibrations - but engagement of other senses would make the experience, as a whole, be more satisfying. Many stories have been written about it because it possesses many remarkable qualities - the least of which is that it is not well hidden. In fact, nearly everyone has accidentally opened it ... frequently preceded by hastily backing out of it. There is an irony to its use in that those who open it the most are generally those who stop looking for it; this is because its position, much like its presentation, moves to match the need. The door serves one purpose - it is a gateway to the wha...