Behind The Doors I

There were old-fashioned doors. Frosted glass, behind which distorted silhouettes appeared... A presence that couldn’t truly be seen, but could be felt. Just like the selves hidden behind the doors of moral guardians. In a world where everyone raises their voice, asserting right and wrong within their narrow boundaries, when the doors close, what remains are contradictions and fragmented identities. No matter what truths they defend, each one, when they shut their door, takes another step away from themselves. The sharp lines of morality conceal the deepest wounds. Behind the frosted glass, a broken self; a lost identity, the very opposite of what they claim to defend.