When I was in the big cardboard box, those who passed by the corner I stood in, wondered why I didn’t try to get out. But, in fact, inside the cardboard, there was a thick plywood that was hard to get through – I had once attempted to kick it and it hurt my little toe so bad I didn’t dare anymore.
They asked me how I could see from there, and I showed them the holes on the left side, somewhere below the roof, where I would get up on my toes to be able to see. It’s true that I could only see the left side, meaning the road where the city square ended, but that was also the East, I had every day the morning sunlight. Well, not every day. There are rainy days, and in those days, apart from the missing sun rays, I had the thin box roof leaking and making an annoyingly repeating sound.
People passed by and asked me how I was – there are plenty of good people. There were also those that never talked to me. There were those that would speak for a while, they would approach me concerned why I didn’t get out, whether I needed help, they would advise me, telling me they would come back. And they did come back, and again asked why I didn’t get out, I re-explained them all the strong reasons – the plywood from the inside, etc, etc. They would still advise me, but less loudly. And always and less loudly and always and less they stayed with me. Until I could see them from the holes on the left, leaving the square and walking on the other side of the road. Some other ex-advisors passed very closely, and without speaking, gazed at me as if we had never talked to each other before. One of them, once, a thin man, not very tall, with a small mustache, stopped and looked at me with a strange chuckle, it wasn’t clear whether he was laughing or crying, whether he felt joy or sadness as he looked at me through the holes. And it embarrassed me so much that look, that I got down from my toes and I laid on the box to distract my mind.
Sometimes I felt tired, so tired I would sleep for days. There wasn’t a more peaceful thing than the colorful morning sunlight, in my warm box. I would turn and stretch all over the box enjoying the new day. The box’s floor was made of cardboard, not plywood, so it was enough soft. That much soft that the pavement with broken stones would allow.
When I was in the big cardboard box, those who passed by the corner I stood in, wondered why I didn’t try to get out. But what did they know? When you are outside, it’s always easy to give ideas and some advice, to tell stories and try to motivate with nonsense. And however, inside it wasn’t that bad anyway. I was grateful to the box for anything it had taught me, for every protection from the madness out there.
There were bad days too, of course. For example, a park security officer got really mad at me why I didn’t move from there as I occupied a full parking spot, and even with my reasonable explanations, he threatened me saying he would get a saw and cut my box into pieces. I didn’t sleep that night. Another day, I couldn’t breathe. It was dark. I approached the holes and they were closed. I struggled for a time that seemed like an eternity, and finally, I managed to open one of the caps. I inhaled deeply and saw nearby some hooligans laughing and wallowing in the pavement.
Two people passed closely, once, I didn’t see their faces, and chatting to each other, I heard them say there were a lot of other boxes like this, they were becoming a problem, they were blocking the traffic, they blocked the entrances, stayed under the bridges were they risked to get drown from heavy rains and then the municipal employees would have to deal even with these big brown cardboard boxes. Then they said laughing that all these people would be rewarded someday with a better box, not cardboard, but wood, entirely wood, and even engraved and decorated from the outside.
Another day, when I hit the roof and in a moment of unreasonableness I was thinking of kicking once again the plywood, I heard: “Explodeeeee!”. I ran to the holes and I think I saw the man with the small mustache. Then I came to my senses and re-realized that only the insane destroyed their own boxes.
When I was in the big cardboard box, those who passed by the corner I stood in, wondered why I didn’t try to get out. But I was fine, I was really fine. I swear I was so fine. I don’t lie when I tell you I was fine, I am really convinced I was fine.