Life is a Russian doll; Pass the weed

Yesterday afternoon sitting in rush hour traffic inside the Battery Tunnel, I thought of containers; containers upon containers upon containers.
I was inside a bus, which was inside a tunnel, which was underneath a river, like a Russian doll. I enter my apartment building, I'm in a container, I take the elevator up, another container, I enter my apartment, it's another container, my bedroom... another container inside another container... like a Russian doll. Everyday. As I type this at my desk I'm on one floor of a 30-something story building... and if I wasn't so heavily medicated this would go on for a few more paragraphs but you get the idea.