I´ve been intrigued by boxes since quite a long time. I guess it all started in elementary school with “Le Petit Prince”. When the Prince asked the narrator to draw a sheep, and he draws a box instead, in which the sheep is supposed to be. By doing that, the box became a tool to hide; not only a sheep but narrator´s lack of abilities.
The Boxes hide … and contain also. And sometimes what they contain is evil (like Pandora´s box), other times good surprises are hidden there, or things that you don´t need in that very moment, but don´t want or can´t get rid of. And, that is to say; boxes are tools of Negation. Negation of certain reality.
Mmmm…I just remembered the Shrödinger´s cat paradox. (As long as the box will not be open the cat inside is both, death and alive)
However, sometimes I feel so bad that, I feel like I need a box to hide in, a box that can contain me, in every sense of the word, until I feel ready to get out and face the consequences of my acts. (Then the box would be the place to deny my own existence).
A box, a box big enough for me to hide in…
I just found a narration by James Thurber, about boxes which match my thoughts.(Or better said, my thoughts match his text) and I just felt like share it 🙂