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#51

I have a little book called 50 Sad Chairs -- a collection of photographs of chairs in the St. Louis area which have been discarded, neglected, and generally dejected.

This one was parked across the street from my office window. Broken front legs, naught but an old raincoat for company. Did the coat belong to the same person who overburdened the poor beast and then put it out to pasture? Or did a stranger mercifully drape it over the once demure and proper thing, like when one covers the dead?



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