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C H A N A B L O C H Door I knocked on a door and it opened. That’s the moment he keeps coming back to. —The door was half-open? No, the door was shut, I didn’t think anyone was there. —Then why did you knock? There was a stranger who knew me at once, who said, “Yes, come in.” —But why did you knock? I was tired by then, it was Friday, late afternoon, I had given up trying. He can’t tell me what made him pause at that juncture of self and door— I know that place. More than once I’ve walked past it, looking at my watch. Or I stopped but did not knock. The 2000s ❚ 311 ...

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