[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
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
And ...
... while I look into the hard-disk for summer flower pictures, it's time to think about preparing the balcony flora for the coming winter.
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