THE OPEN DOOR PROJECT

Corridor #32 Slowly he walked down the hall. A shadow cautiously creeping up against the wall; thrown eerily by the lantern he carried in his hand. Clutching his little cloth bag, he stood for a moment outside each door along the wall before moving on. Finally he turned towards one on the left and was gone. I followed his steps to the door to find it locked. The lighting was dim but I could swear this was where he had entered a few seconds back. I tried the knob again, this time with a surer grasp, and it opened with surprising ease. I walked in to find myself in what looked like someones living room: someone clearly very rich, with a penchant for collecting art. The entire room had a regal air; magnificently carpeted and adorned with chandeliers. The ceiling was much higher than the corridor we had been in, and on looking back I saw that there were no other doors on this side of the wall. Wasnt this supposed to be a hotel? There was just a small solitary table in the huge room and no other real furniture. Though small, the table was done impressively with candles, wine and cutlery neatly arranged for two. The lighting was low here too, but even in the darkness one could make out the huge pieces of art that adorned the walls. Canvases of every size hung on every possible inch of space, unrelated in texture and technique indicating the work of different hands; connected however in the dominant motif of a woman in bed that seemed to flow through all of them. All the walls would have seemed to be done up as one cohesive piece, had there not been a few empty canvases in between giving a work in progress appearance to it all. I could see him near the rear end of the room and I quickened my pace to keep up. I had been instructed to find him for the rest of the answers, and that he could usually be located somewhere outside the hotel entrance. I had recognised him immediately from his bag: an old dirty cloth bag covered in different sized circles of every possible colour, running in and out of each other. I had walked towards him and barely touched his shoulder that he had started moving. Not a word or a look as he silently made his way to the entrance and walked into the hotel. He went around a strange and confusing route, taking various stairs up, then down, then up again, going through various wings of the hotel, to what seemed like a third floor corridor before he had finally stepped into this room. He was moving too quietly and I had to concentrate hard to make sure I didnt lose him. His bag was flung over his right shoulder. The lantern was no longer there. He stepped suddenly to the side and out a door, one I had not even seen till he opened it. I ran the last few steps to cross the threshold just before the door shut.
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THE OPEN DOOR PROJECT

I entered this new room, once again with no sight of him. The sight that presented itself, however, was one I had never seen except maybe at the movies. This room was bigger than the last one. In fact, itd probably be incorrect to even think of it as a room considering how it resembled a kings court. There was a small artificial stream that partitioned the entire area in two; lined on both ends by musicians engrossed in the melancholy strains they were playing. There were huge pillars in a symmetric arrangement, each with different patterns engraved in gold. The floor was a shining white marble and the walls had mirrors lining the entire length, separated only by doors and large portraits of royalty, making the room extend endlessly from some angles. In the far distance on a small stage was the throne, fanned by a couple of young women. Around one of the pillars a little to the right, the king was surrounded by some men as they heatedly discussed something. There were old-looking manuscripts lying around their feet and a couple of artists sat lining the right wall of the room painting what looked like the outlines of a woman in bed, similar to the ones I had seen in the last room. I looked back to see that the wall behind me was lined with doors. I felt my heart tug. It was impossible for me to recognise the door I had come in from. They were identical and something told me that none of them would lead back out. Where was I? How was I to go back? I felt my pulse quickening and sweat began to trickle down the back of my neck. I felt my temples throbbing and my knees jerked with the first couple of steps I took. My discomfort at the current situation, and the fear of not knowing a way out sent my thoughts in a whirl as I tried to re-align my senses. Why had I come here? I had been told to find this man for the answers. The man carrying the cloth bag with circles on it was to tell me of the things we couldnt see, portals we couldnt touch, and dimensions we didnt know about. He was to guide me to my next step and my next question. There was no doubt he was the man I was to find. I had done just as I had been told and still landed myself in this mess. Far from learning anything, here I was with no idea where here was. It didnt even look like something from this era. And to make matters worse, I had no way to go back. My throat was getting dry, my breathing shallow. There was something funny about the air in this room. I felt my chest tightening and numbness followed as I started passing out. The right side of the room slowly started darkening as my steps about to crash to the ground when I felt his hands grab hold of myself, the sight of him almost immediately bringing some relief. I could stand on my own, he started walking again. I started moving as fast as my legs would allow me. faltered. I was me. I steadied But as soon as following him,

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THE OPEN DOOR PROJECT

Where are you taking me? I dont need to go anywhere. Just, if you would just stop for a minute so we could talk! But he was deaf to my words. He kept walking with the same self-assurance he had shown since beginning his walk outside the hotel. He stepped towards a door on the left, turned the knob and promptly went out, closing the door behind him. On reaching the door and turning it, I found it locked. Once again, it opened when I tried again and I stepped out onto the pavement outside my apartment building, right where I had taken the bus this morning. I looked around bewildered to find no sight of him. I looked at my watch and it was the same time it had been when I had been at the bus stop earlier. The lady waiting in the morning was there, sitting in the same spot, eating the same bite from the same sandwich. The bus came two minutes late, as it had then, and was crowded with the same people. I got off the bus as if in a daydream. How could this be happening? Where had I been the last one hour? Had I dreamed it? But when could I have been dreaming? And what were those places? Had I seen them before? Where did those other doors lead? Did I take the wrong one out? My head spilling with questions, I took the turn towards the hotel. He was right where I had seen him earlier; sitting near the north edge of the building. Overwhelmed by dj vu, I walked towards him and tapped his shoulder, trying to make up my mind whether to start following him or not once he started walking again, as I was certain he would. But this time, he didnt get up. He took a few seconds to register my tapping his shoulders and a few more before he smiled and looked up at me. You got your answers? *

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THE OPEN DOOR PROJECT

In narrow corridors of time A pilgrim walks with oceans of stories Stories vague and real Lives of ours caught Enacted in the present Ghosts of the future And nightmares of the past * The show has been arranged now Welcome Strangers Welcome Friends The final act unfolds now The painter and his muse have taken the stage * Theyre dead, he says when she asks about his family Im sorry, she sighs * The art is a magic Only magicians know How to bend space and time Bend the ways of life Escape the corridors Defy the laws of divine The art is a magic * He walks around the room with a suave elegance The artist gazing upon his subject She sits slightly tense Slightly smiling Looking on in admiration Intrigued by his mind Fixed by his art Scared of his shadow * A wild child practices his art
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THE OPEN DOOR PROJECT

A spark of life * Insights into his past She digs the mystery She wants to know him How did they die? * In ancient times there lived a king Enchanted by immortality He spent his fortunes on alchemy And dark black arts to reverse time In holy books of gods and demons He found the answer to his quest A painter practiced an art of death To keep his muses soul alive With her velvet skin canvas And her dark night hair Crystal blood as hue Her soul he perfectly traced * You killed them! She froze in horror Her shadow insecure of its presence I loved them, he sighed His eyes bleed as he walks towards her I loved them. As I love you * She died without resistance Alls fair in art Curtains *

Email: mail.opendoorproject@gmail.com Contact: +1-617-418-0173