[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.
Saturday, April 29, 2017
Chez Tibo ...
Flying back to Vienna after a week spent in a lab. A though time but rewarding. I only have a regret for having not enjoyed the beauty of Cote d'Azur.