[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
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Sunday, January 25, 2015
A last glance at the waterfront, before dinner
Don't say I'm missing the "Good Season". I rather miss the Sea.
la poesia del mare....
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