“The Door is Open” (Sligo Avenue, Silver Spring, Maryland)

I like how the plants on the windowsill are reflected in the mirror, as if in the darkened apartment, a jungle has stealthily started to overrun the living room. Or the moon has come down to play Peeping Tom, surprised the plants into revealing their true natures. What dramas unfold in that long moment between opening the door and turning on the first lights?