“Either you will
go through this door
or you will not go through.
If you go through
there is always the risk
of remembering your name…
The door itself makes no promises.
It is only a door.”
— Adrienne Rich
(door hinges creak)
It smells of seawater and sandstone. Moss and candle tallow. Not a soul in sight. Yet something whispers to you at threshold.
You who have come so far, won’t you come in?
Enter.
…if you can find the door.