

This is no mere door—it is a sentinel, aged and tucked into the worn skin of Dijon, France, like a scar that refuses to fade. The wood, grained and silvered with time, presses itself inward, not out—a threshold that guards rather than invites. Its latch, rust-gnarled, is less a handle than a warning: not here, not yet. The stone frame, thick and weather-touched, embraces the door like the arms of something ancient—protective, quiet, grim.
Above it hangs a modest plaque: 2 bis. Not quite two. Not quite new. A designation for those who know that a house can wear more than one face. The front door greets the sun, but this one greets shadows. Two, again—a second entry, a secret sibling, a memory of the main. It is a doorway for the overlooked, the alchemists, the watchers. It is a doorway for the overlooked, the watchers. And beside it, nine little punctures in the plaster wall—a breath, a relic of pantry days, when homes inhaled the cool to keep life preserved.
Others pass it by. But this door is not forgotten. It remembers you.
Bushboy (Brian Dodd) shares photos of doors, but not just any doors. Spectacular doors from his journeys. Dan’s Thursday Doors opened the door on this. I love doors of all sorts. I’ve trawled through my photos and found a few to share.
©Misky 2022-2025 Shared on X #amwriting @bushboywhotweet and @DAntion
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