Blue Door

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Doors fascinate me. When I travelled in France I was mesmorized by tiny doors that seemed to lead nowhere - they were just "there". In my last blog I mentioned the blue door that leads into our courtyard. I decided it would be best to supply a picture. If you look closely - you can see how it steps down into the yard, off the street. My door is blue. And everytime I see it - I think about the book The Secret Garden. This city has the feel of hidden things, of doorways that might open to butterfly gardens or a little girls tea party. The little streets are a maze of color and stone - and I find myself able to move through them easily, using only instinct as there are few markers and no signs to speak of.

I wandered across the river today and cried. There was a gang (?) of cats that flooded by street and a yellow squat dog that looked to skinny and shy to be our countries beloved lab and yet it must have been. I went into the market - to buy anything to feed them. The people here leave scraps outside their doors for the animals, yet they do not "love" them in the same manner as we do. The animals rely on the humans for food only - they seem to bond only to themselves.

What a sad life for both human and animal. I miss my dog.

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