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PHC

August 29, 2014

My afternoon stroll took me from street to garden and before a shop most strange, for the display window opened onto a largely open inside free of the cluttering common to boutiques found elsewhere about town. Looking to the door, my eyes found neatly printed “Concept store”. These same eyes lit up with an apprehensive delight: delighted by the possibility of finding elbow-to-elbow, as it were, the core ideas of transcendental idealists and Platonic realists, existentialists and Christian apologetics; apprehensive at the thought that these concepts had had flesh scraped from bone and ossature disassembled, all in the end of standardization and ease of consumption. My feet carried me away, and I still know not what lies within the concept shop.

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