The day you start falling in love, with the wrecked homes and broken windows instead of running away from them. You will find a story that fills your soul, behind every burnt door.
Quote: Akshay Vasu
Picture: Eric Swanson
Doing? Remembering. In the basement of my old home, a life time ago, there was an old wooden door with paned glass dividing the finished basement, from the unfinished. That door fascinated me. The wood shone with the patina of age, the brass knob always warm to the touch, and the paned glass was warped creating an interesting play of light.
Every time I placed my hand on that brass door knob, I wondered what kind of world I’d walk into on the other side. I was always disappointed to find an old wooden couch it’s cushions sagging with age, and a rocking chair missing it’s back.
The wonderfully sad thing is, knowing what was on the other side, whenever I touched that door knob my heart sped up, racing with the visions of a heavy moon, stardust fairies, and wrinkled, crinkled crones. A young human wild boy, his band of warriors, and a lost little girl wanting to go back home. My boys swore it was haunted, perhaps I was…