#narrow

Tower House, Tokyo - Takamitsu Azuma

An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.

Terre Sainte / Holy Land - 2018 (extrait de la série Images de la Bible)

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I’ve heard some people describe liminality in the language of Celtic spirituality: a thin place, a narrow place, a place where the living and the dead commune, where heaven and earth all regard each other. Hell too, I hope. Otherwise what’s the point? “Narrow” in Irish is caol, meaning narrow, slender, subtle, or tenuous. In Irish, to speak of the “narrowness of the hand” means the wrist, or the “narrowness of the leg” the ankle. It is a place of mobility or action, a place easily twisted and when twisted, it hurts. Lots of us live in this narrow place, easily open to twisting. Our past and our future each have a hold of us in the present and we wonder how we shall manage. How do any of us survive this fragile place? Liminality, if it means anything, must be as truthful as forgiving, as confessing, as breathing, as surviving.

© 2019 The Lutterworth Press SAMPLE The Place Between

— Pádraig Ó Tuama

@jegulus-microfic January 30, Word count 281

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“You need to quit smoking those smelly Muggle sticks if you want to keep up with me, Sirius!” Regulus yelled over his shoulder as he squeezed through the narrow space behind a bookcase and came out in one of the dungeon corridors. His plan was to get to his secret brew room and let Sirius storm around the castle with no idea how to find him, but that plan ended abruptly when he turned down another corridor and almost ran straight into Snape, Mulciber and Avery. 

“Ha! Caught you!” Sirius taunted as he grabbed Regulus’s arm, completely unaware that there were others in the corridor. 

“You,” Snape sneered. 

“Merlin’s beard, Snivellus, don’t you ever get of bored being such a heinous cretin?” Sirius sighed dramatically. Regulus wondered if his brother had ever kept his mouth shut in his life, but he highly doubted it. The three Slytherins drew their wands, and Regulus and Sirius followed suit. 

“Nebulus,” he said lazily. Thick fog began flowing out of the tip of his wand and onto the stone floor. It didn’t take long to fill the entire corridor from floor to ceiling. It was so opaque that Snape and his cronies were completely obscured. Regulus took the opportunity of their panic to fire off a round of petrifying curses and transformed into Midnight. He knew Sirius had transformed into Padfoot as he could hear his claws against the stone. 

The fog was just beginning to lift when something heavy landed on his tail. He yowled in pain, hissing and spitting as he swiped wildly with his claws, coming into contact with something solid. He dug all of his claws into it and bit down.