When closing my eyes, for a glimpse i can see my self walking down a corridor, stopping at a door and smiling. In the room beyond is where I work, play and create. That’s the room that has my love, my life and my friends.

Five walls, not four.

The fifth wall is the door.

A wall so high no grapple hook, no autumn breeze, no giant flying eagle made of fire can thrust me so high that I land on the other side. I can’t shoot through and my head is sore from shouting. The corridor stares at me with its Victorian white, crack embedded walls. Millions of doors, millions of possibilities and I only want the key to one. My door.