One day I would like to reach doleful dulness distant from weapon french factories and St Etienne cycle, from the tools counter and the synthesis osteology manual or the funeral'shop windows. While waiting, I copied the roller chains of equestrian games, newspapers,english songs lyrics, old film dialogues, fashion ads, and ribbons where the time, furtively, writes itslef better than in its works. The rest, unfortunately, is from me. Probably.
Aliénor.
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