| Maybe there is more of the magical in the idea of a door than in the door itself. It’s always a matter of going through into something else. But while some doors lead to cathedrals arching up overhead like stormy skies and some to sumptuous auditoriums and some to caves of nuclear monsters most just yield a bathroom or a closet. Still, the image of a door is liminal, passing from one place into another one state to the other, boundaries and promises and threats. Inside to outside, light into dark, dark into light, cold into warm, known into strange, safe into terror, wind into stillness, silence into noise or music. We slice our life into segments by rituals, each a door to a presumed new phase. We see ourselves progressing from room to room perhaps dragging our toys along until the last door opens and we pass at last into was. Copyright © 2015 by Marge Piercy. Used with permission of the author. |
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