I’ll see you again in a pine forest by the sea, in a world that is not just an other, but a cosmos, an infinity of here now, before any other, any otherness, in an arrangement before any before, before any subjectile. Will I recognize you there in the middle of the path under the needles? Excuse me for this silly question. I miss you so much.
Vasilis Papageorgiou
chromata 
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