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In the illusion that what we managed to say was what we had to say.
Massimo Volume - Robert Lowell
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A cold early December morning in the lowlands. Fog and cultivated fields are what nature offers to those who, at the first light of dawn, mournfully, cross the Valtrebbia to reach the city. Sometimes, the wind, cold, sharp as a katana, coming from the east, sweeps away the mist, an… more
Track 01 - Robert Lowell