The prompt for today was that if I had to build a diorama to represent my interior world, what would people see when peering in.
So the first thing I did was to google the word ‘diorama’ to make sure I had the concept right. According to Wikipedia, (which I will trust on this):
The word diorama /ˌdaɪəˈrɑːmə/ can either refer to a 19th-century mobile theatre device, or, in modern usage, a three-dimensional full-size or miniature model, sometimes enclosed in a glass showcase for a museum.
This made me think about a snowglobe, because that’s what I’d make if I built my inner world as a diorama. It would have to be a huge snowglobe because I would need there to be and ocean of tea. On the other hand, that could be represented by just a dop, or a cup. Nah, I want an ocean of tea.
The houses would be wooden in the centre but turn into ones built of books the closer to the edge you got. Miniature me would be sitting on a wooden terrace at the edge of the tea ocean, next to a sauna. She’d have her diary at hand, pen at the ready. There would be vast forests spreading from the shores of the sea and small cosy cabins here and there with bookshelves lining the walls. There would be a path that led through the forest to a small town with only a teahouse, a library, and a yarn shop. Because what else would you need? And the town would be inhabited by hedgehogs and cats. Hey, it’s my diorama world!
An when you shook the snowglobe, thousands of tiny words would spread and flutter across the snowglobe skies and when they landed on the ground and on the trees and buildings and on the tea ocean waves, you could read what kind of strange and random poetry they’d make. And of course the snowglobe would also be a music box and you could wind it and it would play The Rolling Wave, the traditional Irish Jig that should never end.