
And indeed you are here now. The and, the you, the are, the here, the now in a cloud of their own on the way to become a bright reality. And in this springtime again the cloud does emphatically that, now here, it becomes the solidity that mostly matters, it hovers in the fresh sky with the bees, airy and translucent, it speaks in a soft voice from a tangible closeness before it finds a remotest twig to rest for a while. Then the inundation of all the other voices, the dear faces that keep each other company, all in a sweet apple that reaches us at this, the very our, moment.
Vasilis Papageorgiou
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