At the bottom of the unit lies a spring-loaded drawer with all my deepest and darkest utterings and thoughts.
Above that, another drawer, less-sealed, more-opened to tuck away memories warm and cold.
On top of the metaphorically wooden system, a drawer for the here and now. It has future dreams, brewing, and stewing.
One drawer shut tightly contains a world of marvellous thoughts.
Above it is an open shelf of optimism. A sliding glass door keeps in contained. Often, it is open just a tiny sliver.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I can keep everything, but what I need closed.
Mostly, however, my drawers are left open with socks and underpants spilling all over the floor.
If I were Napoleon, I’d shut the drawers and nod off.
I’m not Napoleon.
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