Little girl at the door
By Harriet Halhed
A great painting that when I first saw at Canterbury museum
I fell in love with, bought a small replica and put it in my room, no one could
see what I saw in the painting and I didn't have the words to explain it..
Today, it came to my mind and I managed to write this :
I knocked on the door, not because it was my door
I knocked on the door, not because I knew what was behind it
I knocked on the door, not because I was looking for
adventures
I knocked on the door, not because I wanted to walk through
it
I knocked on the door, not because I knock on every door
I knocked on the door, not because I do not like closed
doors
I knocked on the door because I felt I need to knock on the
door, every knock hurts, waiting behind the door hurt, the chance of the door opening
hurts, the questions of what to do when the door opens hurt. But I- selfish me-
felt that I need to knock on the door, because what I felt when I knocked was-
in the moment- bigger than the thoughts that followed.
I knocked on the door, and the door never opened...
