There are 100 boxes, a tower of 300 meters
For each box there is an inhabitant
The boxes move one step down every year
One step closer

The bottom is buried and forgotten.

You feel the movement
You hear rumbling from downstairs and upstairs
You don’t know what it is.
You don’t know what you are
There is no mirror.
Who are you without a mirror.
Do you exist?
Or do you only get to exist through the eyes of another?
Who would you think you would be?
Maybe there would be no who and no you. Just be?

Would you feel anger? Would you feel awkward?

Would you try to get out?
There is a latter
Would you want to take it?
Its around the corner
Would you dare to look around the corner?
If so, would you go up or down?

The boxes move down So maybe down?
Back to the ground