Doors always fascinate me. Maybe because of their duality, they simultaneously exclude and invite – it depends solemnly on the beholder’s intentions.
I like to portray them in the attempt to capture their owner’s personality and or that of their stories. How many wars have they survived? How many lives have they saved? How many have they shut off? How many welcomings have gone through their thresholds? How many hands have touched their knobs and surfaces? I see them silently and statically reflecting life going by and through them. Like trees, always so poignant and proud.
As I trek and pass doors I always fancy that, if they could talk, they’d have very many fascinating stories to tell and some, not so much so. I could sit at their threshold and indulge myself to listen and fantasize.
Doors are silent guardians of secrets.
(photos: Camino de Santiago-Spain, Portugal, Morocco, Nepal – copyright)