I opened my door. The heart of the world was floating there. I realized that I never heard a knock. I opened my door. You were exactly where you are, reading this as you do now. I opened my door. The moon disappeared into a small girl who became incredibly silent and momentous. I opened my door. There, disappearance began to disappear. I opened my door and my door opened me, and I had a dream in which you were dreaming these events I am writing, and my fingers were writing them for you. I opened my door. A river of time flowed into and through me in ways as impossible as they are ecstatic. As I approached the door, it opened time into me, and the stars closed a window in heaven. A window I call your eyes, and as they closed my door dissolved into openings we made together, here, now, along these tracings of light thrown to distances unnamed. I opened my door and every door opened in every way uniquely alike with us. I opened. My. Door.