[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. T.S.Eliot
un bell' angolino nel bosco, per riposarsi e rifocillarsiciaomarco
un bell' angolino nel bosco, per riposarsi e rifocillarsi
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marco