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A fragment of the Garden of Remembering
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It is an impossible sofa. A great mystery, unquantifiable, unsolvable. We all have them, little things we find that simply cannot be and yet they are nonetheless there, before us, taunting, tantalising, jarring our very perception of reality. There is no reason, no explanation, no hope of understanding. They are simply impossible. And they are sofas. And they are what make the universe worth living in.
