Today I carried an ebay-ed door across London. The second door can wait, my forearms hurt.
But, so many people engaged with it – mostly with jokes, knocking on it, or making up stories as to why it was there.
There was something about this door, ripped from its doorway, that was strange and intruiging – the mundanity heightening the strangeness.
I agree, it is an unsettling thing to find. The inside has been taken out: literally – something pinned down has escaped, as a small insight into personal taste that is usually left unshown, and as something that brings forward doors other people have known.
Everyone liked doorways, not everyone liked the door, or doors.