You’re a well worshiped wand waiting on a wooden stand as wizards wish they owned you.

You’re a sweaty filthy foot snugly and safe in the comfort of a trainer.

You’re a kind grandmother, wrinkles showing your past.

You’re an icy, snowy, hand-made igloo shining and sparkling in the bright beautiful sun, not showing any sign of melting.

You’re a glass vase with the sun reflecting against your delicate skin, you can feel the flowers in you blooming slowly and gently.

You’re an outraged giant wanting revenge as you home has just been bulldozed. You can feel the houses, shops and flats crunching beneath your two meter long feet, as people beneath you scream and run in terror.