Imagine, if you can, being handed a gift. It’s not your birthday, nor is it any other special occasion. You’re a bit stumped. Why am I getting this, you think? Where did it come from?
Once you take hold of the package – it’s thrust upon you; you simply have no choice – you notice its heft: Its bulky form defies definition. It’s confusing, unexpected, and quite ugly. It weighs heavily on you; alters your breathing and makes you quite sad, really. You yearn to give it back, or even – heaven forbid – re-gift it (but you don’t have the heart to do that).
What is this? I don’t want it. I don’t know what to do with it.