– IV –

Open doors are not the same as open books. Open doors are revolving doors. A whirlwind of people in and out. In this context, the word share, is a lot like care, in that it is equally detestable. My childhood home was equipped with an open door, complete with policy. I grew up with a home where all were welcome (some limitations and exemptions were applied) at the table, and if necessary, spend the night or stay. This meant my room was forfeited and the word ‘sharing’ became an act of virtue. It was a display of generosity. Which inevitably lead to an obsession for a singular space. An insular domain that is both exclusive and private. Something that is mine with all the selfishness such a thought conjures. Inevitably any place and solitary space which has come into my own possession is sanctified. Complete with a closed door and equipped with a lock for good measure.