Who knows

A genius or a madman, the poet really knew how to touch a nerve at times.
Even the simple-minded Platocrates, in the depths of despair, on occasion
insisted that there was a reason why poets, although treated with respect,
should not be allowed to live in a well-ordered home. But for some reason,
Mr. Nothing had a certain fondness for this obnoxious dandy. Who knows,
perhaps his presence at the table was a step towards redemption, or maybe
just a means of preserving memories.

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