A friend of mine once said to me, “it’s hell in the hallway.”
I remember as he was telling me this I was visualizing myself in a hallway kicking at locked doors—noticing suddenly the hallway was on fire I panicked and saw myself running towards a window at the end of the hall—it was painted shut and I had to break the panes and mullions with my elbow then crawl through cutting my hands on the glass—I felt myself falling two stories into an alley where it was raining and there was a pack of rabid dogs—
I was being a little dramatic
He was referring to the in between period—the space that separates those “doors of life”—fact is when one door closes another one doesn’t always immediately swing magically open allowing entrance to a new and wonderful opportunity—I’ve often found myself locked out of a room trying to find my keys—pacing in the hallway trying to figure out how to break into the room I just exited—searching for my wallet so I can try the credit card trick on the latch but it’s usually locked in the room I’m trying to get back into—I’ve slept in a lot of hallways—spent what must add up to years waiting—it generally takes me a long time to abandon hope and try a different door or head for the elevator—
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