[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.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
It's nearly a week since we saw the sun last time. Cycling in the countryside in the silence of the morning mist has a special taste. Reminds me the atmosphere of a famous Italian film: Novecento.