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A thousand times the days will pass

Modifié le : 2019/08/07

Some­times it seems use­less to tell every hour ; they can all look the same. Passers-by pass, sea­sons pass, politi­cians pass. From time to time, the imag­i­na­tion has dif­fi­cul­ty get­ting away from its own habits. Life goes on.

The day is get­ting short­er and short­er, the snow is becom­ing an ear­ly warn­ing demon. Peo­ple are prepar­ing for win­ter. Anoth­er win­ter will pass, oth­er passers-by will endure it, addi­tion­al hours will van­ish. It will take a few months to real­ize that the days have length­ened again. By then, the cot­tages will seem warm­ly silent.

Each hour is a blank page. And every­thing writ­ten on it keeps the spark of the present moment burning.

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