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Looked at again and again half consciously by a mind thinking of something else [say, catching a bus or shopping for groceries], any object [say, a shopping cart] mixes itself so profoundly with the stuff of thought [or of snow and ice] that it loses its actual form and recomposes itself a little differently in an ideal shape which haunts the brain when we least expect it.

(Virginia Woolf, “Solid Objects” [1920])


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