Something about this location has me thinking about it, long after I’ve physically moved on. The space, and perhaps even more so the image of it, seems somehow unresolved to me. I see these large, heavy, solid, old, worn, doors, their history of movement etched into the scratches on their face.
And then I see the cracks and the light, the clarity and the sense of space all around them… are the doors holding it all at bay, restraining it, or are they just about to burst open, let the outside in?
Do I see an end, or a beginning? Or is it both, all at the same time?
And is that lack of resolution a constraint, or a freedom? Or is it both, all at the same time?