thresholds - chris j mitchellWhat I remember most is the smell.

Not what one would call a pleasant smell, but not by any means a bad smell. It lay somewhere in between. A concoction of moisture, stone and wood, that combined with a cold space – created a musky scent that would greet me every time I entered.

Next was the cold air. Shielded from the sun, the wood and stone protected the air particles inside from their supercharged brothers and sisters, who were being energised outside by the warm rays of light.

As a child, on a hot summers day, I would so look forward to visiting this place. Its long corridors full of mystery and its brooding ambience were all a delight for the mind of a young adventurer on a journey of discovery. Even though I had walked the rooms and corridors before, this would not stop a new expedition each time I entered.

These thoughts now are just memories in my mind and the house sold long ago. Still, they are cherished recollections and will be held as a dear part of my childhood while I still walk the earth.

This short piece is for Sue Vincent’s #WritePhoto