Since being a child I’ve been fascinated by old doorways. Perhaps it’s an overactive imagination, picturing goodness knows what lying await behind the wood. Or perhaps it’s because for the most part of my life, through my innate nervousness, I’d rather hang back, not enter the room, stand outside, and ultimately miss out. It’s not like that anymore. Doors are made for opening cautiously, and they are made for bursting through. They don’t need to separate us from what we could be. We don’t need to miss out on the beauty that life can offer because of doors that we have built up in our heads. We can open them. We can look inside. We can all change.
(A small door on St Stephen’s and All Martyrs Church, Bolton)