basile-night

September 23, 2024

The night is false, sometimes the night is.

Sometimes I let myself be part of it, you see, I am a coward.

We let ourselves into the garden; how grandeur, how want. The lost soft supple abstract.

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Thought:

“An important school of modern poets has been concerned with the discovery that, in childhood largely, in dreams and daydreams entirely, the imaginative life of the human individual stubbornly continues to live by the old magical notions.“

W.H. Auden

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