[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
Tuesday, June 16, 2020
A gate
A the end of the trail, civilization appears again from nowhere. And you know it's time to wake up.
No comments:
Post a Comment