They say the eyes are the windows to the soul.

Look into mine.

What do you see?

Nothing.  Nothing but an empty room.

But, already, I lie – there is something.  Sitting in the dark, cobwebbed room is a chest.  Locked and chained it has existed here for many years.  Indeed, for so long now that even I have forgotten what it holds.  Perhaps nothing, perhaps everything.  Perhaps the reason for my being incarcerated here in this white room with no windows, one door and padded walls is held within this box.  Or, perhaps, I’m just insane and the chest really is a figment of my poor, addled brain.  Who knows?  Certainly not the whitecoats with their charts and friendly bedside manner – and electric shock treatments.  In fact, they have no idea the chest is here, for you see, I haven’t told them.  So doesn’t that tell you something – I trust you.  And, if you’ll trust me, then maybe we can open the chest and peer within – see what forgotten and unwholesome part of me lurks inside.   Oh, I’ll admit this all sounds very dramatic but, then again, I’m probably mad anyway so the box can’t really hurt you, can it?

Ah, excuse me-

‘Good morning, Doctor.’

‘Time for treatment.’

I’ll be back soon…

.

.

.

…There, that didn’t hurt.

Although it will take me some time to gather my wits (ha! ha!  Sorry, poor joke because, of course, if I had any I wouldn’t be here).

Anyway, where was I?  Oh yes, the chest!

Come on, let’s open it.

Stand back.