Toy Stor(e)y

It was big and long. Reaching far up. I never knew it could be so long. As it loomed closer to me, I stared at it in awe, eyes wide open, mouth gaping, a slight smile on my face.

A crane outside my window and I live on the 10th storey. There's a lift upgrading programme going on. It's quite awesome. Even now as I'm typing, the crane's outside and if I were to look upwards, I can't see the top of it.


Unfinished shaft outside balcony window:


A portion of the shaft of the lift on the back of a erm, truck/lorry/vehicle:

Crane lifting shaft up

You know what they do after that? The workers outside my balcony window will fit the shaft onto the other blocks of shafts already stacked on top of each other. Like playing Lego, only that the actual Lego blocks are a thousand times lighter than these blocks.

Suddenly I feel like I'm living in a box. Or a girl and her family living in toy houses. All of us are, aren't we? Toy houses with toy lives, going to toy work, earning toy money, doing toy studies, studying toy minds, playing toy music, doing toy math or making more toys on toy beds so the population of toys will continue to live.

The toy story.