Cold light of twilight or dimly warm light of sunset, it doesn't matter… stones are not supposed to speak, neither are lights. In her mind she ruminated on the idea of ​​how many times she had crossed that threshold, that gate of her home, and not so much how many times, but rather at what moments.

Who is able to quantify the times we cross the entrance of our home? Even more difficult, not only to quantify, with a simple counter it could be possible, it is about qualifying, taken into account that… each step under those arches, doors, porticos... beautiful jambs, are bearers of special moments of our existence and do we even realize?

Hesitant and at the same time determined, she wanted to go through the entrance of what had been her home again and it was no longer. The great pain, the great doubt came to ask if that physical place could be something more than that, a mere handful of materials, arranged according to people's preferences.

In the surroundings all was silence, broken by the sound of a bird singing or the familiar cock-a-doodle-doo of a rooster. Stopped in those lights, if she could hear a rooster, that shows us that at that moment what was happening, was that those dark and cold lights of dusk gave way to a new day.

Everything has changed a lot, we want to be modern, turn to the rhythm of a world in constant change, but we lose humanity, we leave our most human and natural essence in it. What is the point now that men wake up with the first crowing of rooster? Then women wake up with the second crowing of rooster and finally children open their eyes to the new day with the braying of donkeys. What's the point? Natural lights matter little, she already moves in a world illuminated at will.

I’m disoriented, she’s disoriented… we go crazy in these unknown lights. Even disoriented we have sought certainty and comfort and progress throughout life. To go from being covered by the beautiful celestial vault, to being protected by the roof of a great cavern. More concrete with time, each one is protected by the jambs and the entrance of their own home.

Illusory to think that everything is nonsense, a game of the mind, that idle does not know where to work. It's not trivial. It is so important in our lives to be covered with a roof over us that even in our eternal appreciation we decorated it with paintings, we painted the stone or we studied the stars... now we settle down and settle for a porch, also decorated as we pleased.

Ninth hour, prime hour... what difference does it make! it doesn't matter!... the summary of life that passed under that threshold, that entrance, does matter.

Now, think about your entry and you will have a summary of your own life.

Your wandering around the world is marked by transcendental moments, framed at the entrance of your home. Imagine standing under your entrance, in the current or previous ones of your life. Around those pillars your existence is summarized. If you have to remember many entries, it is also a reflection of a restless life. If you have no door to remember, the answer to your continual restlessness or restlessness or detachment may be found there. Are we beings attached to material things? yes, without any doubt because we are ephemeral. We have to associate ourselves with something to try to frame our existence.

With a certain sadness, even besides those jambs… one comes out lying down in the final sleep. Or you enter with a baby in your arms. How many memories do those doors give you? Many, few… are there too many doors? I don't even consider there to be an entry of mine, think about!

Why is a front door so important? Because we have always looked for a roof, where to find our place in contrast to the infinite open sky.

She thinks of the door of her home, of some entrances and… memories run like shivers down her spine... she knows she is not alone, for now she crosses the threshold, one day she will be in eternal sleep, without stepping, others will step for her, helping her on the final journey.

Let your entries tell you about your life, let them fill your mind and mood with memories. The entrances speak a lot, because a large part of your life wandered under them, under their gaze... perhaps you are always in a hurry and you have not realized.

Every time you walk under them, they hug you!