"Do you remember the sight we saw, my soul,that soft summer morninground a turning in the path,the disgusting carcass on a bed scattered with stones,it...
France is not poetic; she even feels, in fact, a congenital horror of poetry. Among the writers who use verse, those whom she will always prefer are the most prosaic.
Photo by Ákos Szabó
Photo by Ian Turnell
France is not poetic; she even feels, in fact, a congenital horror of poetry. Among the writers who ...
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