Box Towers

Layers of blankets, stacked on top of each other threatened to topple over as our tiny white car toddled along unfamiliar streets. The last time we had seen the house was when it was still in construction or at least, when I had last seen it, making my expectations of a wooden frame with generic pop music rattling within its walls as the sound of drills droned alongside it a little bit unrealistic.

But now that I saw it with floors and a roof, oh my! It was beautiful and blank as all new houses are. Our boxes labelled things like ‘books’ and ‘things’ piled high over our couches, bunting hanging out of the boxes we couldn’t seal and in the gap of it, a little narrow space void of ‘things’ was our trusty tv. Amongst all the rubble it had survived. As we huddled together under a blank white roof, our cardboard city loomed around us, the wooden streets with its box towers promised a billion more stories.

We turned on the tv and watched.


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