With Rimbaud in my heart
At the heart of our time, there’s a night, a vertigo. As there was Dante’s journey, so now there is…
At the heart of our time, there’s a night, a vertigo. As there was Dante’s journey, so now there is…
“I don’t see you anymore…” According to his friend and biographer Ranieri, in front of whom he was dying in…
My first memory of Augustine is connected, I’m not sure why, with my mother’s bed. Perhaps I was flopped down…
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