Image by Roman Kogomachenko from Pixabay “When the past is all deception” T.S. Eliot Revisionniste What do you want to see,the ghost fiction of your romantic mind played onlife's brassy screen aslipstick on a figment,a ferment of slivers,which one will fall outfirst doesn't really matter,the order is always disordered and none of them will show the unified whole,every memory playedis a chapter…
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