Nils Olav

Monday, 9 March 2009

I-.

I was half-crouched in the door frame leaning with my back against the cold surface, hands on thighs and head held upwards. My eyes focused on the swirling grain, scrutinising the more weathered areas of the timber. Though well aged, the door frame was still standing strong; broad-shouldered, not yet slouched from years of heavy lifting. I wondered what it would be like to be given a single task, a sole purpose for existence. And with a heavy sigh I breathed my last...