We all live in a box. Some of us live in bigger boxes than others. Others will own their box some day.
We wake up in the morning and drive to work in our moving box, admiring the drivers of more expensive boxes. Some of us don’t own a moving box, and have to pay to ride big boxes with other people.
We go to work inside a cubed box to work for someone who lives in a bigger box than us.
At the end of the day we return to our box and sit in front of a tiny box that has moving lights in it.
On the weekends we visit dark, smokey boxes where we are very careful with who we talk to.
Most of us will choose to make box living more tolerable by living with someone of the opposite sex. There is constant pressure to upgrade your box.
When we are eldery, we don’t even venture from our living box because getting around in the moving box is too scary.
Our final resting place is the smallest box of all.