I can identify the pattern of wood grain on my chair at Mom and Dad's kitchen table, but I don't try to sketch it in my mind. For me, chairness is nonvisual; it's the feel of a seat connected to four legs and a backrest.
In its final form it might be a phatasmagoric mixture of the poem in prose, the popular tale of folklore, the psychograph, the essay, the myth, the saga, the humoresque.
I have a bad case of the sweats. Do you think it's the flu?
‘Mitty’ owes much of its interest to violating this rule in its opening pages, deliberately ‘garden-pathing’ the reader into mistaking Mitty’s fantasy world for his actual world (as, apparently, Mitty himself is inclined to do).
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