I fell, giving the arm, at least millions of stairs
and now that you're not there is a vacuum at each step. Even so it was short
our long journey. My
still lasts no more I need
connections, reservations,
traps
the scorn of those who believe that reality is what you see.
I dropped millions of stairs giving arm
-face with perhaps not because it sees more.
With you I've got because I knew both of us the only true
pupils, sebbene tanto offuscate,
erano le tue.
Eugenio Montale
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