'The tables I like are quiet. They sit patiently waiting for the day's purpose to reveal itself. They offer themselves to a room, not attempting to grab attention or dominate, inconspicuous in their simplicity, saving their qualities for those who are interested. The table that I grew up with was one such example. A simple 5' x 3' pine table, four legs joined with mortise and tenon joints, a wide apron to support decent dimensions. It still sits as composed as ever in my parent's dining room. It has participated in the raising of two generations that ate and grew and learned at its surface and there is no reason why it won't participate in two more. Can an object such as this be described as having a soul?'
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