My inner Tardis is a place inside me that is bigger on the inside than I am on the outside. It conceals all of my hidden thoughts, most of which are hidden from even myself. As I walk the corridors of this vast and mostly made up space I find myself rummaging through old moldy cardboard boxes mostly filled with broken toys and comic books. Here for instance is a red robot made of plastic and metal, his gears all spilling out. I got him for Christmas one year when I was around 10 I think. One of my older brothers wanted to see how it worked so he took it apart. I was angry as a kid can be angry. Obviously it really cheesed me off because there it is in the first box I look through down the first hall of my inner Tardis. All I can say in retrospect is my brother is a very lucky boy that robot wasn't a dalek or a cyberman that he mangled or he would have got a good walloping. It was just a cheap red robot from sears. Thank Tardis!
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kersus_2
Sat, 09/07/2013 - 10:08
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It's interesting what we hold onto, physically and through memory.