Madness string 773

Random mermaid
It is an impossible sofa. A great mystery, unquantifiable, unsolvable. We all have them, little things we find that simply cannot be and yet they are nonetheless there, before us, taunting, tantalising, jarring our very perception of reality. There is no reason, no explanation, no hope of understanding. They are simply impossible. And they are sofas. And they are what make the universe worth living in.
Evil turned out not to be a grand thing. Not sneering Emperors with their world-conquering designs. Not cackling demons plotting in the darkness beyond the world. It was small men with their small acts and their small reasons. It was selfishness and carelessness and waste. It was bad luck, incompetence, and stupidity. It was violence divorced from conscience or consequence. It was high ideals, even, and low methods.