"Look, I am living. On what? Neither childhood nor futurelessens . . . . Superabundant existencewells in my heart.

Look: the trees exist; the houseswe dwell in stand there stalwartly. Only wepass by it all, like a rush of air.And everything conspires to keep quiet about us,half out of shame perhaps, half out of some secret hope.
Look: the trees exist; the houseswe dwell in stand there stalwartly. Only wepass by it all, like a ...
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