The Door That Waits in Silence

A wall stands-
aged, unhurried,
holding the weight of passing days
in its quiet cracks.

At its heart, a door-
closed, not in refusal,
But in patience.
As if it knows
that every knock carries a story.

Above, the arches breathe
in gentle repetition,
like a memory trying to stay whole,
even as time softens its edges.

The street lies still,
stones pressed smooth
by footsteps that no longer echo.
A railing divides nothing,
yet suggests a pause-
a moment before crossing.

No voices rise here now.
Only the faint hum of absence,
only the presence of what once was.

And the door remains-
not locked away,
but listening.

Waiting for a hand,
a whisper,
a return.

For some places, do not forget-
They simply close their eyes
and remember in silence.

Object number

014.093