of the St Bavo cathedral in Ghent, lives a white house ... it stands out from all the other houses in the street ... majestic ... old and original ... flaking and cracked once white paint left and right ... a most beautiful double wide carriage door with bronze inlays and scrollwork hinges with a wonderful patina ...There are ancient cobblestones on a sidewalk ... uncomfortable cobblestones ... two gray blue stone piers flank the entrance ...
As I come closer I keep watching the door ... the color is a dark green ... many greens of as many layers of paint as there were lives in this house ... it feels ancient ... it feels familiar ... a strange awareness crops up ... I suppress a shiver ...
I stop and slowly let my eye wander
over the facade ... all window shutters are closed except the balcony windows on the first floor ...
I stretch and try to peer through the darkness of the balcony windows ... to no avail ...
Yet ... I can't help imagine the grayed sheers moving gently as if someone just briefly touched them and pulled away ...
Maybe ... just maybe ...
I hesitate a brief moment but then slowly make my way across the street ... I hear the faint sound of a horse drawn carriage clattering over the cobblestones ... I look around ... nothing ... no one ... the sound disappears ... just imagining the noises of the past ...
The cobblestones feel uncomfortable ... remnant of centuries for sure ... passersby don't seem to notice me ... no one looks ... no one greets ... no one is taken in with the beauty of this house ... all are navigating cobblestones ...
I stop in front of the massive doors ... my left hand is touching the cold bronze inlay ... I shiver briefly again but my hand keeps following the the playful curve of the exquisite decorative detail while I slowly pull a keychain out of my cloak ...
There's only one key ... heavy ... large ... with an impressive 5 pronged beard each side ... another promise from the past ?
I wipe the cobwebs away from the keyhole while I insert the key ... to my surprise the key turns almost smoothly and the bolt unlocks with a solid resonating thump ... the door is heavy ... too heavy and I have to use my shoulder to crack the door open ... a whiff of old air greats me ... dust ... moldy stale air ...
I turn around and look into the street ... there's no one there ... all passersby are gone ... total quiet ...
A crow circles overhead and drops down onto the balcony ... watching me ... I stare back unfazed ... she takes off with a loud cra ... cra... craaaahhhhh echoing between the houses ...
To be continued ...
* * *
My chair has become a fun project ... everyone treats my chair differently ... and I'm sure my chair *loves* vintage clothing ... from top to bottom, Donna, Sarah Ellis and Kayla ... May 2009.
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