The Life Inside A Chest

When I first stumbled across the circus clown trunk, I just stared. The hand-drawn clown staring upside down across the front felt like more than decoration. It felt like a piece of a lost world — an old fairground life.

Old wooden storage trunk boxes aren’t just containers. They’re time capsules. Before plastic tubs filled every house, trunks were the way people travelled. Built solid, heavy duty, sometimes decorated with brass corners or painted lettering.

I remember when the circus came to town once a year. Posters glued to walls promised elephants, fire breathers, acrobats — and always clowns. Looking at the trunk feels like it was there backstage, stuffed with costumes and props, waiting for the show to begin.