Posted 9 months ago View high resolution
Posted 9 months ago View high resolution
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
Preludes (IV)
T.S. Eliot
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