Daily we encounter the two sides of a closed door: inside and outside, within and without. Of story, journeys, and days there are always beginnings and ends.

A mirror doesn't exist by these rules. And those who live there are not bound by them. In the old white house with green shutters, wooden floors and mere cobwebs of curtains, there is a very large mirror in a gold leafed frame just inside the front door in the entry hall. It has been there forever. It always will be.