fairy tales are entry doors into another world. a world of imagination and wonder, of possibilities and support, of danger and threats. they are powerful door openers into our subconscious. images, collected through the years are all floating around, getting mixed up and turned around within the world of wonder. Alice knew. 

this green door, with its paint peeling off and a door frame that hardly supports the door anymore, reminds one of Greece. Old villages glued to the hills with steep staircases winding down to the ocean. warm morning winds and quiet afternoons. old ladies in black dresses glancing through windows, hidden and covered by lace curtains. men sitting on small benches, the roaring sound of Vespas. Kids playing in the streets. the streets are narrow and made out of cobblestone. The marvelous blue sky melts into the ocean and the eye is sinking into the illuminated blue horizon.  the door seems locked and the  house abandoned. old furniture inside. broken. a shelf displaying a few small glasses.  a table.  no chairs. does this door have a knob. shall we step inside?