Closed Door

Back in 2004, our first apartment in Beirut had a metal outer door to guard or block the actual apartment door for extra security. I believe we never actually closed (much less locked) that 'extra' security door the whole time we lived there, but anyway . . . these metal outer-doors are common throughout the city, and though you'll find them everywhere you'll notice that there are very few alike. There must be some creative metal-workers in town.

I liked the symmetry, right angles, and repetition in this door. And I'm feeling a bit gray as I write this, so it fits.


  1. I, too, like the look of the grillwork, esp. the repetitive pattern. I'm sure those doors are traditional because of past history.

  2. I have a grill on my door and also on my windows here in Sydney. Yours is more minimalist in design. Why are you feeling grey?

  3. Oh, it's nothing I guess. It's just that at times my limitations and deficiencies seem to leap up and grab all off my attention. On days like that I feel isolated and grim, austere like that door.

  4. I have come to "welcome" days like that, so long as there is space between them!

    They are my learning days, my moving forward days. After a bout of grey introspection is when my writing is at its most adventurous and insightful.

    Do you have a method yet to take advantage of the "grey"?

  5. You're right, Julie--such times can become a source. I haven't learned how to take advantage of my grey days, at least not while I'm still in them. But when I get out again I feel more capable of kindness, reaching out. That's something.

    Writing certainly helps. I've been a dedicated journal keeper for years, so it's writing of a rather grounded sort--nothing too creative. I hope that all of that writing will ultimately yield clarity. Maybe one day I'll be able to show the grey to myself and I'll understand it better.

  6. "more capable of kindness" - had not thought of it like that.