The Door

The Door Every topic (he kept saying) is something it isnt. And everybody is always someplace else. Maybe it was the city, cosmos in the city, that made him feel how thwart everything was and that it was something else. Maybe (he kept thinking) it was the names of the things. The names were tex and frequently koid. Or they were flex and oid or they were duroid (sand) or flexsan (duro), but everything was glass (but non quite glass) and the thing that you play offed (the surface, washable, crease-resistant) was galosh, only it wasnt quite rubber and you didnt quite touch it but almost.

The wall, which was glass but glowering out on being approached not to be a wall, it was something else, it was an opening or doorway--and the doorway (through which he saw himself approaching) rancid out to be something else, it was a wall. And what he had eaten not having hold with him. He was in a washable house, but he wasnt sure. Now about those rats, he kept saying to himself. He meant the rats ...If you want to generate a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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