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our eyes

"When the eyes are shut, the true world begins." —1948, Gore Vidal

1930

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destroyed the icon

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a true story

the boy and the sea the ocean wanted me, and pulled me into his embrace, made me unconscious and tried to take my breath away, as i was letting go into the light of the sun, my mother heroic pulled me out of the waves, saving her only son. — dio d.

the voice of your eyes

somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will enclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully, mysteriously) his first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands — e.e. cummings

these are the things we do

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perfect blue

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