the doors

Dearest  ______,

If you are the kind who looks really closely at objects and things, then you might already have had that moment of animating the inanimate.  Like, have you ever stared at a stranger’s shoes on a long train ride home and thought,

“I wonder where they have been…”?

Hopefully these musings are not made out loud… saying them to your self is weird and creepy as it is.

I get voyeuristic and creepy when I see doors.  If it happens to be a beautiful door, I get obsessed. I become Humbert Humbert and I find myself taking photographs so that I will remember my Lolita forever- ironmongery, lock set, finish, and all.

Doors are something else.  It would be totally unfair to say that they are “the windows to your (home’s) soul”, for blatant biases in this figure of speech.  While windows may sometimes be too obvious, doors have always kept that distant air of mystery: when a house is closed, you don’t generally knock on the window because it is the door you try to woo.

Every time I see a beautiful door, regardless of its style and make (Victorian, Minimalist, Oriental, Industrial, etc), I always think to myself,

“I hope the whole house is as beautiful as this door…”  With a sigh.

Morrison and the Doors. How very apt, indeed.

Love,

Karlita

PHOTOGRAPHY & TEXT BY AUTHOR UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED.  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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