|dc.description.abstract||In my master design studio, I was asked to imagine what I would say, what would be my story, if I was a door.This is the poem I wrote as an answer to this query:
IF I WAS A DOOR
Let me tell you how painful my loneliness is.
Behind this coarse body, stories are hidden.
Tear the threshold curtains
Let me tell you of the woman with henna colored hair
Who sat beside me days and years, cried and waited for her son
Who went to war years ago. I wonder if she is still there.
Dusty alleys of our parish,
Children of the street whose voice’s tingles
Swept me to far places; to flying Pelican of Golshan garden in Tabas,
Alborz Mountains, smell of rain, smell of earth
Come closer; let me tell you how beautiful the other side of the world is with these little windows on my skin.
Could I be green, like the pines of our garden, Could I have had a platform for every tired traveler to rest and tell me of his journey.
Could I have had a doorkeeper to tell these secrets to:
Scent of satin, hanging sweetbrier from my brow,
secret melody of swallows…
Would they not replace me with another: There, that house, that parish is all my memory.
This thesis is about the doorway; it is also about
threshold, transition, and the in-between. It aims to encourage a more engaged interaction between people and the spaces around them.||en