There is a romance to the hue of the cabinet, a sense of soul that comes of such earthen browns.
The cabinet browns are the fingerprint of the forest, for they show the growth of years through many seasons.
The cabinet had stood for a sigh of the eons, not even a whisper of time, yet was centuries in age within the world of men.
The cabinet is a wall of tiny doors, each with the name of its resident. For a moment I think of myself as Alice and that each one could be a portal to somewhere new, to some other universe, an escape. I wonder what it could hold that would make it the most valuable cabinet on Earth. Could it hold the secrets of happiness and joy? Could a structure so rigid ever bring the liberty and creativity we need to stretch and grow? So I imagine it as a rubix cube of sorts, that, at will, the compartments rearrange themselves, quite nonchalant to whatever label they have been assigned. Yet for all that wondering it is very much in the room, this wood that swirls with the randomness of each season, the patterns given by the rain and sunshine of each year. It comforts me that even in such enforced order there is still the sweet freedom of chaos. It is how the universe laughs.
They say this cabinet was born of an ancient tree, one called to Earth by the wind, one that stood for more time than a man can fathom.