The words on our door is our mirror. It can also be the first page of our autobiography for the world to judge by the cover. What will we find if we ring the bell?
Stories of valour perhaps or comrades, victories, defeats or long waits. Distant geographies, migrations, heavy steel trunks, collecting memories from around the country, remembered when the pension money order arrives, if it still does. Was the door left half open so that the postman didn't have to knock? What about the silent members of the family (if there is one). Roots, beliefs, securities, insecurities.
Visitors, census takers, the ones we want to never to knock on our door, the ones who never had to knock, the people who press the wrong button. The words on our doors is our mirror. The size of the mirror isn't its depth.