Magic boxes everywhere

 

Oh, I'm long back now from Genoa, technically speaking. But as I write this I am just finishing preparing posts for the time when we are gone. And yesterday, for the last of these, I decided that pulling up a classic from clerkmanifesto's history might be nice. I found one to make me feel a bit better about the world cup and soccer in general.

But while I was looking around for that I also found another really short post. And why not give myself one extra day to gather myself for the next, post Genoa, work of clerkmanifesto?

This short one still feels sort of personal to me and contemporary, though I can't say why without ruining it.

Anyway, I wanted to share it with you anew.

It's called:

Magic Box

Imagine if you will a box.

Every time you open the door of it something different is inside. Open it one time and there is a crumpled five dollar bill inside. Open it again and there is a silver ring with a Celtic design. Open it a third time to find an espresso cup, or a chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano.

Now imagine that that box is so big that you can get inside of it. 

You walk in through the open door of it. You close the door. And when you open the door again you find that something entirely different is outside; a room with a table of flowers for instance, or a party. You close the door and open it again to find there is a bright hallway there that leads to where you live.

This is why I love elevators.