To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June (Jean-Paul Sartre).

 

My girl Norma:


"The trees down the boulevard stand naked in thought,
Their abundant summery wordage silenced, caught
In the grim undertow; naked the trees confront
Implacable winter's long, cross-questioning brunt."
-  D. H. Lawrence, Winter in the Boulevard, 1916  

















































 Sunday prayer










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