Our neighbours are Chilean - they fled their home and country while it was in the grip of Pinochet and his thugs. We found this out by accident; they are delightful, fun-loving and intriguing - one would never guess any of what they have endured.
Between us, an aging wooden fence badly in need of paint stands heroically, framing their door. Their door is wood also but it's made of something warm looking - honey-coloured oak or maple maybe - a welcoming door, set into the pale yellow siding of their house. It makes me smile that door. It does.