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Do I discover the Thing’s glow or do I place it there?
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The objects which haunt us
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I am the ambulance that never comes, the antidote you spill
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Creative thinking as mushroom picking: a sketch of a psychoanalytical account of thinking-through-writing
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People who dislike the area where they live are in a sad state of disrepair
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We shall always linger on in our former houses
