…

the Weird is behind the door. an ordinary door of bright varnished wood. or is the idea of whats beyond the door, the Weird- the pent up mystery and fear i feel? the process maybe? the encountering or knowing i will encounter. this is a long hallway and i have a lot of time to think and summarise. i will have initial reactions and thoughts i cannot control or minimise. maybe the weird would notice and be weirded out by me too, both of us standing looking at each other searching for a common ground or way to communicate. the straight edges and pointed corners of the door concealing a smokey soft concept that malleable and changeable- impossible to grasp. i think about the way i walk, its ordinariness and regular rhythm. i know the concept of walking, around a park or to work maybe- the swishy sound my trousers make when each leg touches or that i should probably walk off the leg cramp. by approaching something, that thing gets bigger and you can see it more clearly too- all the details and dirt. if i look back i might not be able to see where i just was or it would appear so small i could fit it between my thumb and index finger. then comes the action. i know now what form my hand would take before i get to the door- a clasp that would turn the lock. click. i have opened so many doors, some multiple times and some never again. the Weird is secret as there is no window to see- no opportunity to glance through and get the upper-hand. it wants to see me shocked, or panicked, or maybe just curious and full of questions i could ask or keep to myself. perhaps the physical reaction would take over and i’d just run back down the hallway to where i know all the words and shapes, towards my professor.