[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
Monday, June 29, 2015
Sunday evening
The countryside north of Saronno in these days of harvesting. (Sent by mail from my mobile)
No comments:
Post a Comment