In the Foam Cabinet is something, someone, somewhere, or somehow.
It's different every day, whatever it is.
Not to be confusing, I'll start simple.
Today, I open the Foam Cabinet and find a brick.
This brick is made of clay. I do not have any better equipment to obsrve the brick than my own two eyes, my ten fingers, and all the nerves my body wants to provide. The brick is not soft, nor is it rough. It would not be pleasant to bite, but it is satisfying to paint. Not with watercolors, but any other paint would do.
I pick the brick up. It's about five pounds, more or less. Enough to draw blood, if dropped on one's head. How do I know this? Because this brick has been dropped from a simple distance of five feet, onto someone's head. They're not dead.
The observations stop here, because the Foam Cabinet closes, and the brick dissappears.
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