I am nothing.
I'll never be anything.
may not want to be anything.
Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams of
world.
I'll never be anything.
may not want to be anything.
Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams of
world.
Sand in the eye, including the last hills and the sea-the sea-in the cold for a week almost gone, and blessed by the wind that always blows from the north. The beach. And the sea. It could be the picture-perfect eye-divine world that just happens, the mute existence of water and land, finished work and correct truth-truth-but once again saving the grain of the man who jams the mechanism of that paradise ... and makes it real.
.... and a growing desire to Atlantic breeze, the need to feel the wind ... just there to Cabo de Roca, the westernmost point of continental Europe .. . and beyond ... just the ocean out of sight and reality ...
M.
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