I once came to the conclusion that a chair, when not sat upon is a meaningless object; a non item in search of something to do.
It dawned on me that, if I wrote something meaningful on the chair it would create a purpose for the unsatupon chair. I wrote a schmaltzy, cheesy poem (about loss of a woman) on strips of paper then pasted them onto the piece of furniture.
It worked. When sat upon the chair was a chair, when not sat upon the thing was a poem.
The problem was that each time I read the poem(which was often) I would burst into tears. The memory of the lost love was too much.
I eventually chopped the chair up and fuelled the fire with it; another use for an unsatupon chair.
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