[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
Thursday, May 17, 2018
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Just dropped my rental car at Paris airport and taken off to Vienna. I got a good seat for watching out of the window, until it gets dark.
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