In response to this post by Susanna at Dreaming as the Summers Die:
I feel like my life is a house whose front door hardly anyone uses. Other souls come climbing through the windows, waltzing in the back and side doors, slinking up the cellar stairs, seeping under cracks and creeping in through crannies, scuttling around the attic and down the chimney. They never come out the way they came; they find another way, leaving a trail through my life, patterns in the dust on the floor. But the few who enter the front door -- who come into my life in the most obvious ways -- step into the foyer, wait, and are gone.
I feel like my life is a house whose front door hardly anyone uses. Other souls come climbing through the windows, waltzing in the back and side doors, slinking up the cellar stairs, seeping under cracks and creeping in through crannies, scuttling around the attic and down the chimney. They never come out the way they came; they find another way, leaving a trail through my life, patterns in the dust on the floor. But the few who enter the front door -- who come into my life in the most obvious ways -- step into the foyer, wait, and are gone.
absolutely loved this.
katie, thanks so much for the awesome comment and the credit. i loved your post soooo much, it was definitely much more poetic than mine :)
thanks susanna! i LOVED your revolving door image -- and i've kind of always wondered how they lock revolving doors. wouldn't that just be the weirdest thing to walk into a revolving door that wouldn't revolve?? lol