m-am întors pentru a împărtăși cu voi ceva ce îmi place foarte mult: andra: monstrii..
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bogdanel
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bogdanel
«[...]if a man finishes a poem, he shall bathe in the blank wake of his passion and be kissed by white paper.» the new poetry handbook, by mark strand
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bogdanel
there is a place where the sidewalk ends / and before the street begins, / and there the grass grows soft and white, / and there the sun burns crimson bright, /
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight / to cool in the peppermint wind. [where the sidewalk ends, by shel silverstein] -
bogdanel
terrible throat ache. hexoraletten n. stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, silence the pianos and with muffled drum bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. (funeral blues, by auden)