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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