Desk

The philosopher couldn't get his mind clear, and hadn't even started thinking about the puzzle yet. All day he'd only thought about solving it (how happy he would be if he solved it, how he might be congragulated for solving it, and how long it might take) and about much else (when he should do laundry, should he now get some coffee). His thinking had been disorganized like this for weeks, and he had only faintly been aware at how cloudy and undirected he was.

He stood up, stepped away from his chair and cluttered desk. He turned around, walked a few moments, and sat down on another chair in front of another, empty desk. This was his special desk. The philosopher had been brilliant in his youth, and when the university hired him, he had negotiated for this desk in his contract. The desk was vast and empty, and he had hoped that by sitting at it, and staring out across its massive surface, eventually his mind might clear, and seemingly intractible puzzles might become clearer.

He was looking out across the desk, and his mind cleared. He stopped thinking of laundry and coffee, and stopped imagining himself working on the puzzle. His sight was filled with the gigantic desk, so huge that he could not see where it ended. He stared at it, but he could not even begin to work on the puzzle. "How strange", he thought, "this desk is really gigantic. I don't even know where it ends!" He sat staring some more, and then climbed up onto the desk. He took the first few steps uncertainly, but then sped up to a good pace, walking quickly to discover just where his desk ended.