The word access comes to English via Latin and Old French. Along the way, it picks up an interesting set of meanings. By the early 14th century, access could signify an attack, onslaught, or onset of an illness. A century or so later, it added the habit or power of getting into the presence of (someone or something). Almost a century later still, access could also simply mean an entrance.
I looked it up.*
You could say I accessed information about the word access. It's a great word to say out loud. Ac/cess. A clack followed by a slide. A snake with a clicky jaw.
I took this photo at around one in the afternoon, on a cool, bright day. Initially, it was the contrast that caught my eye; that, and the door's irresistible blue.
Thinking about access and looking at the photo, now I see something else. The doorknob is too close to the wall. I'm not sure it's possible to open the door without somehow damaging your hand. So I have to wonder, is there often risk of one type or another associated with access?
What do we miss in seeing? We can't take in every detail. Some things are going to be skipped over deliberately, others overlooked by chance. If you're able, please zoom in this photo I took the morning after a generous rain. There's a marvel of tiny stunning details. Imagine the ability to slow down and sink in.