“there is no easy way out”
Claire EA Fiedler
2024

At the far end of the water, stands a door. The bottom has lost it's color, worn by weather, wind, water, or by boots scuffing the edge, kicking it in. The window above the door has long lost its pane. Its curtain tethers, unravels, drawn deeper into the elements as time drags on. But it's not really about the door or the window. It's what's behind the door.

What it conceals.
What it traps.
What it secures.
What it holds.

In silence, in breath, weathering. A threshold none remember crossing, and yet something waits, just beyond the frame.