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Weeping streams in the river

  • Mar
  • 8 de fev. de 2025
  • 1 min de leitura

Translator: Sara Sachetti Fernandes



What we have lived and what is yet to be lived, which persists in permanently accompanying us.

I don’t ever want to blow.

A sour taste flies, a sourness within me flies, without ever leaving land, but wouldn’t it be more terrifying if I felt nothing when I came back?

The shiver; the sigh; the phantom touch; the wind in the back of my neck.

If it weren’t so.


 
 
 

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