Whisper the Past
There they all are, they’re all piled up. These are boxes, some big, some small, some medium. Life is in the boxes. Someone went to the trouble of collecting the items in the all the boxes. Some are things that were given to the person. Precious are the items that tell of a lost love, a love felt deeply long ago, or classic books bought and read over and over again or clothes worn for a special occasion, an event that changed the person’s life forever. There is no replacing any of these pieces of personal history. The owner of all this is the person with the rolling suitcases, the person going endlessly from here to there. We have nowhere, the boxes say. You have that in common with us.