My little jotter fell from a shelf straight into my hands. So I started to skim this ream of paper, ream full of thoughts and memories. Preservation of bygone summer, the marvellous one.
Appolinaire "Pod mostem Mirabeau", just a line sketched hastily across a page.
And then I was so very in a little village of Tirano; full of sun and peace.
Our customary lunch in the middle of it- on a marketplace bench, just next to church.
E's declamation of this poem. I liked it so much! Before my mind's eyes I see clearly all this setting.
What is like Travelling!
Here original text and translations:)
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