I've always had a thing about archways. I find the shape compelling in a way I find hard to describe. When I returned from England some years ago I had a collection of photos of archways--a small arch leads from one Oxford courtyard to another; the arch of a ruined cathedral wall frames the view over a grassy courtyard; an arched, wooden door shows scorch marks from fires of hundreds of years ago.
Through an archway my eye and imagination travel distances of time and miles. Kings stride under arched entryways, leading their armies into castle keeps. A door to a secret garden creaks open, then closes with a click. The souq spreads out beneath a Marrakesh window. Priests walk quietly in hidden cloisters then, as now.
I don't know where this small archway would lead if it could--an alley, a neighbor's yard, maybe a parking lot. Not that I care. It's fodder enough for thought.