It's amazing sometimes to consider what fits in a box.

Boxes are useful to contain things, ordinary things like biscuits, teabags, tissues, books, you name it and it has probably lived in a box. At the same time, extraordinary things have also been in boxes, like records of incredible events, amazing discoveries of science, while priceless artifacts of the world around us quite often also live, or have lived in boxes.

I wonder how much of one's life could be measured by the contents of a box. Quite often, upon the death of someone, their belongings are put into boxes, and sadly in the case of death such as murder, their lives are put into boxes until their souls are placed to rest by their investigators. People when leaving places, houses, jobs, relationships also put away parts of their lives into boxes, and sometimes when parts of their lives are being returned to them, they receive them in boxes.

Boxes are amazing things. Where would we be without them.
I know my life would certainly be a far greater mess than it already is without them, even if I didn't get back the contents of some boxes. I guess the physical and material objects of a box are just that, and serve to be reminders of the memories inside our boxes made of bone, until they are put into another media for storage into another box somewhere else, unless they stay until they are placed to rest in the final wooden box. Of course, some people end up in urns and not boxes, but that is another story entirely.