[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
Friday, March 19, 2021
March 19
This time I can really call it a Father's Day. Antonella made a masterpiece Maritozzo. It's more a matter of eating with the eyes, rather than else. And it's way too more I could expect, at the end of yet another working day.
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