Category: Thursday Doors
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12 June: A Thursday Door
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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5 June: A Thursday Door
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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29 May: A Thursday Door
The Door in Dijon It waits — not with grace, but grit in the grain,a hush between hinges where histories stall.Lichen writes secrets in cursive, slow bloom.The brass bruises light, but holds to the shape.Somewhere inside, dust rehearses its fall.You listen. The lock is a wound that remembers. Reflection for “The Door in Dijon” There…
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23.05: A Thursday Door
for hurried hands of those who come and go,each scratch and dent is a memory: a hurriedkey here, a heavy knock there, all stories. Poem written for Three Line Thursday “Door”. 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…
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8 May: A Thursday Door
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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1 May: A Thursday Door
With weathered panels and a faded, dignified face, this old wooden door stands like a guardian of forgotten stories, its peeling paint and scarred surface whispering memories of countless comings and goings. The ornate carvings and the rusty knocker sit like a brooch on a well-worn coat. Despite its age, the door holds its ground…
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24 Apr: A Thursday Door
This doorway feels like an old, steadfast guardian—quietly dignified, a little battered, but enduring. It might be an elderly caretaker, standing at the threshold with a gentle, knowing patience, the weathered wood and number plate are like wrinkles and laugh lines, telling stories of years gone by. There is a sense of resilience and quiet…
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10 April: A Thursday Door
The soul of this quiet Dijon street lives in its weathered walls—cracked beige plaster, rough wooden shutters closed like sleepy eyes, and a low, warped door that has whispered secrets for centuries. The past lingers in the faded blue sign honoring a long-gone mayor, while brown arrows point the way to grand palaces and museums,…
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3.04: A Thursday Door
This Dijon door is kissed by Burgundy sun and winter’s spit, its oak ribs groaning secrets to the stone that cradles it like a grudging spouse. Weathered—as if time is something that happens to a thing, and not the slow feast it’s been savouring. Every crack—a sip of centuries. Every splinter—a tongue holding tales. The…
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27.03: A Thursday Door
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…
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