– What are these?
– Boxes.
– Why?
– What do you mean?
– What do you need these boxes for?
– They are my life.
– Literally?
– Literally.
– How can a box be someone’s life?
– Do you see these notebooks?
– Yes.
– They will tell you about every single day of my life. About the sunny ones when I skipped school with my friends and went in the park to eat ice-cream. Or, the rainy ones when I said goodbye to one of the precious souls for me in the world.
– Is that all?
– No, but what if it was?
– It would be perfect but, still, is there something else?
– Well, they can show you the ball me and my friends played with in a nearby forest, covered with some sentences we wrote on it. They can show you all the pans that I’ve used during the last year of school when getting ready for the exams. They can show you a few beautiful stones that I’ve brought home from the seaside when I was on a vacation with my family.
– Only the happy memories?
– No, of course. One of them shows the cone my friend gave to me as a joke before he passed away. A poem my grandma wrote to me secretly before he moved to Italy. A letter my friend slipped into my bag before he went to the doctor to find out about his terminal illness.
– Isn’t it hard?
– What?
– To look through it every now and then.
– Not at all.
– Why?
– Because it’s my life. It is where I’m coming from.