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09/24/2004: "Door"

There is a wall. It is made of great, big stones, is ten feet high, and a quarter-mile long. It follows the Far Hills-Liberty Corner Road, a few feet to the east. It is overhung with foliage, but otherwise it is impossible to see what is behind it. About halfway along, there is a door. A small door, made of wood, just high and wide enough for one. As long as I've been traveling that road, the door has always been closed; but yesterday I saw a man with a wheelbarrow go through it. I saw through the door. I saw what was on the other side. Then I was past and saw again the unbroken expanse of stone wall.