My Griefs Unfold

Before I left my parents in Louisiana, I had a habit of taking
shelter in boxes. Some people hide under tables.  My first
cloister was a complex arrangement of two refrigerator boxes
assembled in my bedroom. Later, (after switching rooms) I adopted my
tiny bedroom closet as hiding place. With a chair, radio, and small desk
I read, listened to music, and built flying model rockets. After this,
my interests turned to photography, and the darkroom suited my
claustrophilic tendencies perfectly.
Shelter from the demons at your door can come in many different forms.