Doors
At the brink of death, one doesn’t know where one goes. A liminal crossroads, death is but a door. That door, which opens into the unknown, that we encounter when we close our eyes and accept the darkness. Others never see the door on their way out, perhaps because everything happens too quickly or they become too forlorn. And in their despair, remain to walk in the corporeal world without respite. Ghosts. Spectres. Wanderers. With loved ones always out of reach. Tantalizing, but impalpable. Unable to sever the tether that binds them here, they watch the world around them forget their names. And even when their loved ones accept the embrace of death, they will never see them again. Death is only a door, never meant to be lived in.