This section was to be followed by the third-person study of a man who has been locked into some devilishly accurate recreation of the Luxembourg Gardens. Each day meat and old crepes would be thrown over the bars to him. The idea wasn’t at all developed and says perhaps more than I would like about its positor’s state of mind in the late 1990s. As does, I suppose, the thing about the clownfish. Which is really the same story. Just as it, the thing about the clownfish, is more and/or less the same story as the first section of The Impossibly. Which ends up repeating itself in its subsequent sections anyway.
Albeit differently.