picture the inner self as concentric circular walls on an Irish field of green grass. Each wall is made of different material like rock or clay or wood that absorbs different feelings. many of the walls are tough, like the walls of a castle. They were made tough by filtering out the every day events of sarcasm from coworkers, bad news in the press, and waking to an alarm clock. The walls arent perfect. The outward facing side of each wall hurts a little. As lava splashes against the walls, it is repelled with effort, but repelled none the less. The inward facing sides are in good repair, and can even be cozy. In the center is a cut-out of a man in thin paper. Even though its delicate, its quite safe because its well protected. Then you're both reaching into the wheelwell to connect the ends of a snow chain and you look at her and suddenly a strong breeze wafts above all the walls and causes the thin cutout to wave and swing.