This time of year is full of possibilities…
door
Melbourne 365: Day 311
The door seemed out of place, an unexpectedly weathered disruption in the regularity of the fence. Like some kind of portal, transporting the traveller to other places, other times…
Melbourne 365: Day 180
Sometimes all of the light is on the other side of the door.
Melbourne 365: Day 179
This way to despair, confusion, loss, and forget.
This way to wonder, light, life, and curiosity.
This way to Oz.
This way to oblivion…
Melbourne 365: Day 168
Retreat/oasis from/in the city…
Melbourne 365: Day 100
We’ve made it to triple figures – day 100!
And what better way to celebrate than with the first brilliant sun of the morning, warming the buildings of the distant city? And if you look closely, you might even find a special surprise – four balloons gently riding their own source of light and heat, to trace a quiet journey through this beautiful morning…
Melbourne 365: Day 99
There are many kinds of history…
There’s the history of people, told in stories of trust, love, hatred, fear, jealousy, revenge, opportunity.
And then there’s the history of places, felt in every scratch on every doorframe, every flaking strip of paint, every rotted panel falling away to the touch, every tentative thread of ivy, taking over and filling in the gaps.
There is much history in this place.
Melbourne 365: Day 93
Ah, welcome. Thanks for coming.
Your gateway awaits…
Melbourne 365: Day 88
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?
Timothy Moss 