The door
Author: @nachomolina2
"Creative content"
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The world is a gallery full of countless doors. Appropriately dispersed everywhere, they fulfill the function of opening the way to some stage or place, by condition, a room highlighted for being useful.
Entrances and exits. Some, like blind sidewalks, occasionally leave us with no option. The doors, meanwhile, show the new address.
An entrance to the labyrinth where we would later seem to wander lost. Passers-by waiting for a train that will take them to the other side. Reality which we do not know, is closed, the door, and behind the obsolete.
***
Doors that open and close. Which skylight, with its glow invites us to pass. Challenging the darkness itself, it offers a space of escape, an escape towards the portal. The door is a framed rectangle, like an ornament, in a place on the circumference of the planet earth.
The most important thing about a door is to know which side you are on. Inside or outside, in its swing a door shows two antagonistic realities, from which one must know how to choose.
"You will always prefer to be looking at someone through the glass and not, on the contrary, to be seen, by someone through the glass. In short, a coffin door will never be a good hiding place."
***
Every day, standing in front of her, the door, making an inevitable decision after the new delivery. Well, it is the case of writing, the difficult creative task of the writer, who strives to widen the heart with fear, a border which must be crossed, each time, without knowing where it leads...
The door and its mystery makes me captive. Without thinking about the way back, something invites me to go further. Where dreams come together with reality, where time does not pass, and the door sinks to the bottom, leaving the human trapped in a portal of desire.
***
As an allegory of deep rapture, I remember:
There are those of us who are hopeless victims of our own confinement. Dominated by everything that afflicts us, we remain confined, locked behind the door. Things like; anxiety, crisis, phobias, concerns or conflicts of a strange nature, as is the case of a pandemic, which necessarily leads us to remain in quarantine.
"In this way, the prisoner, who saw, sinuous, the jailer, leaving the door of his cell open. He felt that offer as a false freedom. He recognized that the years of correction were the repository of his cruel thinking. He thought, If I walked through that door! It's a matter of time and I'll see the jailer's macabre smile again, now, for much longer. Then he covered himself with a blanket in the water table corner and crouched in the dungeon, trembling with fear...."
***
Entering our room we placate the shade. We left out the minotaur. That feeling of suffocation stops, it makes us prefer that the same cloister engulfs us in the worst withdrawal.
Living like this, the pleasure of fantasy, away from the vainglory of the outside world. Because a door separates the good from the bad, it keeps us safe, and it could also leave us free in the labyrinth, at the mercy of the minotaur.
***
We don't all think the same. In this sense, the son of insomnia speaks. A fragment of the universe, underdeveloped, that does not know if it deserves to cross the gate of heaven.
"Behind the ivy hide my imaginary friends waiting for the awakening, also, my faithful companion, loneliness, longing for my return. The End, wanting to show me the beginning, death, with his glass half full, tired of waiting, innocent, that liquor and I don't know each other."
Conferring the universe the total plenitude in glimpse of my own laws, perhaps, the sky is some small place, overcrowded with the passage of time, with millions of interested parties stationed in its lap, which would only manage to limit the inspiration of a man who with feet on the ground already feels full.
***
And the bedroom door closed behind it, it was open before, but it wasn't me who ordered it.
The hinges with the creak, the pounding of the wind shaking it in closure. Covered by vines carved like honeysuckle, that door embedded in a vine, like a monolith, showed me the awakening of a new life.
And its ebony color, and its ash on the carving that little by little was growing on the wood.
***
"On the other side, freedom, envelope of an uncertain destiny. And from here, the prisoner, contemplative, doubting every moment. Willing to cross, in exchange for nothing, knowing in turn that the new thought will be born out of nothing."
One hand on the knob. The other chest. With his voice caught and his cave throat wondering how to do it.
He knows what it costs to get in and out. You know the door was always open. And he, just another, who dares to save his opening, another who will not even recognize himself, when passing to the other side...
***
Between two indistinguishable dimensions. He was powerfully attracted, and the threshold was far away, and ecstasy took care of sealing the door of his destiny.
In the end, he doesn't know which side he is on, and it was too late... he only sees, the door, and nothing, because the train had already passed between his two realities.
***
Original Content
2022