Trunk in the old attic
A Box of Wonderment

One of my favourite places when I was young was Archie and Edna Hair's attic at the Arches, a fantasy realm that lay on the Freestone Creek just outside Briagalong.

The attic was a tiny space above the kitchen. Archie had papered the walls and ceiling with images from old magazines. I lay on the grey blanket on the old wire bed and gazed in wonder at his collection of images, images which told a thousand stories.

It was at 'The Arches' that I was filled with a sense of curiosity and wonderment. Archie Hair had a wooden box, the contents of which were a constant source of fascination to us. In this box the old man kept things he had collected from the bush. He called these bits and pieces 'wonders'. Archie's box of wonders contained a motley assortment that to most people would have seemed like bush debris. Each piece held a story.

This trunk is a safe place, a container, where you can leave some of the debris of childhood. It is a place where you can lock up the betrayals, the fears, express the inexpressible. It is also a place to store happy memories, memories on scaps of paper, which, when pulled out will flit like fire-flies and dance joyously.

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