We spend our days playing in the closet.
In our imagination it is a spaceship, a doorway to other worlds, a portal that can travel through time. In the darkness we act out our fantasies, constructing the characters of our narrative. We play with the treasures that surround us – costumes in boxes, paperwork on shelves, trinkets that remind us of our parents.
We play all day in the closet, waiting for the door to be unlocked once more.
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wonderful
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I guess the real monsters were outside the closet. Liked it even though it was sad.
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This reminds me of Zathura.
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Beauty. If only more of us would MacGyver out of our locked spaces and improvise, play, experiment out in the open. Or whatever. What do I know? My degree is in philosophy. 🙂
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