Boxes and More Boxes
Boxes, more boxes Of papers and photographs. Flawed memories. KEB 1/3/17 For a year and a half all of the boxes of “stuff” that I brought home from my dad’s house have been sitting in our guest room. Well sitting may be too kind a word. Crammed is more appropriate. It is fair to say that anyone who ventured into that room would have needed a golden clew, like that of Ariadne, to make their way out of the labyrinth…