Doors. The stories behind them

Doors have always intrigued me.  There is something about looking at a door with the paint chipping off revealing colors from a previous time that just captures me.  Maybe, it is because the door in itself is telling a tale of the life lived behind it.  A door can represent an entrance of hope, a place of refuge, a new beginning.   Or, a door can also represent entrapment and enslave someone to a life of hopelessness.

Sitting in agony as his legs were restrained by iron bars all he could see was one square of light that lit up his small-enclosed space made of cement and dirt.  The smell of defecation, urine, body odor and sickness filled the air.  The sound was quieted with fear except for the voices of the prison guard’s just outside of his cell door.  He lived in constant trepidation knowing that he was not even allowed to move to alter his position while trying to sleep unless he asked permission of the prison guard.  He lived in inhumane conditions with little to no hope.