Activity

My grandmothers, teachers, uncles and aunts, and especially my father, were always encouraging me with their constant homilies: if at first you don’t succeed try try again; hard work moves mountains

I can't wait to go into reverse, to make the things of the world exist again, one by one or all together, to set their variegated and tangible substance,

You enter the penumbra of the lowered blinds

because the arrow's peremptory inexorability, without modulations, excludes all the intentions, implications, hesitations possible in the voice of someone I do not see

the echo of a vanished knowledge revealed in the penumbra and in tacit allusions.