[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, February 3, 2018
Waiting for news
I'm not waiting mail from Croatia, where I took this picture. I know that sooner or later I'll get (not so good) news from Italy and this doesn't make me sleep well.