[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.
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Looks like these Succulentae waited for the end of the Summer before pushing their best sprouts out. And it seems to me that the same happens in all contexts, even between humans. If they only became aware of it.