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2005-02-13 - 6:09 p.m.
Memory of France
Together with me recall: the sky of Paris, that giant autumn crocus... We went shopping for hearts at the flower girl's booth: they were blue and they opened up in the water. It began to rain in our room, and our neighbour came in. Monsieur Le Songe, a lean little man. We played cards, I lost the irises of my eyes; you lent me your hair, I lost it, he struck us down. He left by the door, the rain followed him out. We were dead and were able to breathe. by Paul Celan
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