One day, a small group of people entered a room full of chests.
The task was simple: everyone had to choose one chest and open it.
Everything inside the chosen chest would belong to the person who opened it.

The room also contained various iron objects - from old keys, whose keyholes were unknown, to different screwdrivers.
The impatient ones quickly rushed through the room, hoping to find an item that would help them open their chosen chest more easily.

Within minutes, the first chests were opened - one with a key found nearby, another that opened without much effort using an iron object that had been lying right next to it.

All the other chests were being diligently worked on - except for one in the corner of the room, which had no keyhole at all!
Not wanting to waste too much energy, whoever came near it quickly gave up, assuming it would be easier to find a reward elsewhere.

But one person was different.

While watching others try to open the remaining chests, she walked over to the keyhole-less chest.
She sat down beside it and placed a hand on it, first watching others as they excitedly opened their chests.
Each time someone managed to open theirs, the joy of opening quickly turned into disappointment because of the contents.

The items weren't bad - but each person had clearly expected something more.

Soon, all the chests had been opened, except one.
People were still somewhat satisfied with their findings - especially when they looked at the one person seemingly wasting time gently tracing their fingers across a chest with no keyhole, searching for a hidden sign or clue to help open it.

They smirked, thinking the chest wasn’t worth the effort and that the person would end up empty-handed.

But the person didn’t pay attention to them.

She didn’t even see them.

By now, she knew almost every part of the chest and had even grown fond of it, though it was still locked.

Suddenly, a click was heard.

The smirks on everyone’s faces turned into shock.

How had that person managed to open the chest with no keyhole?

All of their thoughts became the same.

Imagine, they thought, how valuable the contents must be if it took that much effort to open it.

They stared at the person who had opened it, and their facial expression confirmed their suspicions - the person was gazing into the chest as if it held the most precious treasure in the world.

They all rushed toward the chest.

They gathered around it - and inside, they saw: almost the exact same things they had found in their own chests.

Confused, they looked at the person, who was still smiling at the contents.

They returned to their own chests and looked inside again.

They wanted to see if they had missed something - was there anything valuable in there after all?

Still the same, not-so-valuable things.

You might expect them to mock the person who was content with their chest.

But instead, they just sat down beside their own and watched the other person with envy.

Why is that person satisfied? Why aren’t we?

They couldn’t answer.

And the person who had opened the chest without a keyhole still didn’t see them.

She saw only the chest - and the priceless things inside it.

Were those things truly worthless?

It didn’t matter to her.

Because what was inside the chest meant everything to her.Short description or beginning of the chapter/poem/short story/quote that goes into three-four rows, just as preview of the chapter...

When you look at me,

my body is mine.

When you erase the space between us,

my body is mine.

When I wear little clothing,

my body is mine.

When I say no and you hear yes,

my body is mine.

When I let you get close,

my body is mine.

When I let you kiss me,

my body is mine.

When you tell me you love me,

my body is mine.

When you have needs or desires,

my body is mine.

When you try to take away my rights over my body,

my body is mine.

When you tell me to prove my love through sex,

my body is mine.

When you say you’ll leave me if I don’t give you what you want,

my body is mine.

If I decide I’m ready for sex with you,

my body is mine.

When only you want a child,

my body is mine.

When your mother can’t wait to have grandchildren,

my body is mine.

When I don’t send you photos of my body,

my body is mine.

When I do send you photos of my body,

my body is mine.

When I sleep in the same bed as you,

my body is mine.

When you're shocked that for the hundredth time I say no,

my body is mine.

When you guilt-trip me for not giving you my body,

my body is mine.

When you believe my body is your possession,

my body is mine.

And even when you dare to take away my right to my body,

my body is still mine.

In a small African forest, right at its edge, a young crow watched a little elephant gleefully splashing in shallow water.

"What if he steps into a deep part and sinks? So careless," thought the young crow. And yet, something about his reckless behavior made her notice him out of all the creatures in the forest. Not just notice—she watched him constantly, for days, trying to figure out what he was doing.