Some people call them Shadowboxes. but I have never seen them as full of shadows.
I think they might be made up of lights, but I’m not altogether sure.
For all I know, they are made up of memories. Or perhaps Faeries.
The memories gather, and collect in the corners like dust motes, until they have made a new picture.
The picture is made up of photographs and scraps of handwritten notes, and there are dried flowers to carpet the bottom of the frame.
It is a hoard of sorts, gathered carefully over time, and put away neatly in a museum memorial to the past.
I assume the faeries curate the collection.
They keep the curtains from closing on the memories, the ones that continuously play the same scene, and endless show, a one-act with the first line and the last indistinguishable.
The stagelights go up and down, and the faded scraps of colors have become greasepaints to your memory.
But the ever-playing performance is not one of shadow-puppetry.