← back to stories

Boxes (revisited)

Is your life spent in a box?

You live in a box. It's inside another, bigger box. Every day, you leave your box and walk along doors, behind others lives in their boxes. You enter a smaller box, smaller than your own, and it moves you down. Finally, you're free. Now you're walking between boxes and the sky is wide and open and there is light and air and birdsong. You breathe more deeply, even though you might not notice it. You're thinking about what you will do once you're back in a box again. And it doesn’t take long. Soon enough, you meet others, as they wait. A box arrives and you all enter it. It’s a nice box, but it’s very basic and everyone has to stand while the box moves. You're on the moving box for a while, looking at a different box with a glass surface. Eventually, you leave, moving through some underground boxes until you arrive at another smaller box. Again, others wait and when the box arrives, some people get out, some get in. There is almost no room left in the box when all the people are inside. It’s a fast box and soon, you shuffle out, enter a nice box that smells like plastic. You sit down in your own box, putting electricity to another box so you can stare at it for about four hours, moving almost nothing but your hands. Someone asks to see you and talk to you in a different box. You get hungry and call someone that brings food in boxes. The day passes. You take the power away from your glowing box and leave to go home. For a couple of minutes, you walk outside again, but it is already dark and there is a cold wind blowing. You wish you could be in your box sooner. You enter your box and switch on the light. There is food in one box, cold, so you have to heat it in a spinning box. You eat, staring at another box with a glass surface. You're tired and go to a different division of your box, where you get sprayed with warm water. You lie down on top of a box. You close your eyes. Your dreams are about boxes.