If I were turning this into a story, I would make it allegorical, she decided. That would mean … Her fingers slumped as she looked through the fringe of trees and into the perfectly normal garden. The garden was also English-looking. It was made for afternoon tea and big hats. It was a place of dreams, in its own way. The sort of thing that Australians imagined belonged in their past.
I can make this make sense, Melissa declared to herself fiercely. This isn’t a normal house and these aren’t normal doors.
The map with doors that say “portal” was the key, she realised. It’s a portal house. It’s a place that leads to other places. It’s also a refuge. It’s a place where some things are stored and saved. They give us fellowships because it’s a place where stories start and where art can blos
