It was like walking past the window of a narrow storefront in the middle of a fancy part of the city on which the word vergoldung has been painted in small gold block letters, and stopping to peer inside.
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It was like realizing that you are looking at a gilding workshop, to which customers bring things to be gilded, and thinking of all the things in your possession that could use a coat of gold leaf — your mood, for one.
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It was like wanting to ordering a dumpster’s worth of lilies to be delivered to the door of the gilding workshop, just to see whether or not the gilder has a sense of humor.
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It was like fantasizing about opening up a rose-painting workshop right next to the lily-gilder’s, so that at least the street is a little bit honest about its beautifying lies.