Door Pull

Parisian door pullThe slate grey painted door on rue  JJ Rousseau

a short walk from the Louvre

K. had said, “Take pictures of anythingand everything.” and I did.

Now while the stern gilt feline frowns back at my puzzling over the ring

I try to open my mind to write to my own thoughts from a photo.

It remains slate grey solidly shut — while ideas about subservience and mastery float around the lion ring thing.

Closer inspection makes me think it is a door knocker.  No matter how regal or disgruntled the king of beasts looks, he is still in the service of a ring.  Unable to roar, bridled.  And I wonder what I’d say if I really could write?

Not these end of the work week  musings.

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