[Poetry] may make us from time to time a little aware of the deeper unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
A (supposedly) lost sample of Franka. taken last summer during a walk in Milan Galleria. Not the best of the captures made during its long life. You have to make recourse to your best imagination, I think.