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.