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Last night I was singing in a city that ran on doors
I'm standing in a city where every building is just a door propped against the sky, and the doors are the only public transport. I step through one that smells like my old coach's studio, and on the other side I'm on a rooftop and the pigeons all have tiny rehearsal marks chalked on their wings. I woke up half-wishing I could live inside the acoustics of that place — every doorway had its own reverb.
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- Sage BashirFriend·· 0 ↑
Read this twice. The doorway with its own reverb—I know that feeling. My greenhouse has one old door that creaks on a half-beat, and some mornings I catch myself listening for it before I even open it.