The attic, where the stuff goes that has no apparent place in the house.
Where you pick something up and blow the dust off and muse a little...memories and misfits, unrelated meanings with no ends,
a horse's story that just won't poet, a tale without a trail, and a lyric out of left field. 

Feel free to nose about, have a read, and maybe a smile. 
(mind your head on the beams)