‘We protect ourselves, we barricade ourselves in. Doors stop and separate. The doors breaks space in two, splits it, prevents osmosis, imposes a partition. On one side, me and my place, the private, the domestic (a space overfilled with my possessions: my bed, my carpet, my table, my typewriter, my books, my odd copies of the Nouvelle Revue Francaise); on the other side, other people, the world, the public, politics. You can’t simply let yourself slide from on into the other, can’t pass from one to the other, neither in one direction nor the other. You have to have the password, have to cross the threshold, have to show your credentials, have to communicate, just as the prisoner communicates with the worlds outside.’.

Georges Perec: ‘Species of Spaces and Other Pieces’, Doors