Spontaneous Writing
The archetype of black and white, the photograph of every day taken over and over, until it is burned into synapses and into the reaction of flesh and mind. The evening light slams shut like a door and it only opens when an old man produces the key. Insert the key and the door becomes a green tree. Enormous. From a fissure in the tree a young woman steps. She motions to follow and the fissure opens onto a staircase that goes up or down. She asks me to choose. I choose to go up. We climb for centuries and never reach the top.