A house that lets you be human begins with a threshold. Not a door flung open onto the entirety of life, but a place of arrival—a moment where the outside world is set down before the inside world is taken up. An entry hall, however modest, performs an essential kindness: it permits composure. One may remove a coat, collect one’s thoughts, adjust one’s bearing. The self is allowed to arrive before it is required to perform.
Poet and Novelist