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A fragment of the Garden of Remembering
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The lovely are the ones that are quietly nuts, I've found, not those with screaming and depravity but the ones with simple manic joy, straight-jacketed in the corner and humming merrily as the butterflies flutter by. I'll admit, that's not the direction the people usually take them, but when they do, it is rather glorious. Like walking through a garden of little dreams.