So there I was sitting on this big ‘ol box, you know those kind that can fit a thousand colorful balls in which you can roll around in and never be sure if a monster’s tentacle will pull you down under or not. Sure it’s understandabely scary at first, but it’s also much more thrilling to dive head first into the ball filled void, so deep that the vibrance of ball colors all turn menacingly black and you find yourself in a state of non gravity, suspended between the robotic cheese mouse crazy house above and the bottom. Have you ever touched the bottom of one of these boxes? It’s not a place I like to be: gum, poopy underwear, and broken balls. It’s the end of the line, you know once you reach the bottom you are faced with the truth of that ball filled box, it’s a ball filled box, where thousands of small bodies have frolicked inside before you. And nothing more. Neither above the balls nor the bottom satisfy my persuit of void, so i prefer being suspended; my imagination can rampage and no one or thing can touch me except a slimy tentacle which actually turns out to be my mother’s hand pulling me out in order to go home.