WE had a strange sleeping arrangement when we were kids. My childhood bedroom was also bedroom for my brother and mom. Since dad worked night, it was just the three of us home. So we slept with mom even when there were rooms for us. Mom usually had her little son next to her in that big bed by the window, and I was put in the single bed which was across the room door. Basically, my bed was just, say, three meters away from the door, which was always kept open. The thing about open doors is that they are creepy. You switch off the room lights, the room goes pitch-dark at once but it eventually warms up when the street light or moonlight seeps through the window. Then you see familiar shadows on the wall. Perhaps of a gently swaying mango branch just before a midnight shower or of bats dashing across the porch like what I used to see on our wall. There's always activity and life even when you're safe and sleeping. But the open door will always be dark and mysterious. No shad...
a blog about small things with big value