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Losing the sun (part 2/3)
Pubblicato 8 gen 2023
Aggiornato 4 dic 2023
Cultura
10 min
Cultura
Pubblicato 8 gen 2023
Aggiornato 4 dic 2023
10 min
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Losing the sun (part 2/3)
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The old man was sitting on the bench, sparrows around him were making out a five-inch-diameter circle within which there would be no seeds to eat, the early fog of a winterly town day was lying in wet, velvety layers, slurring over the slippery steps of the little church dimly shaped by such misty motions. All the sounds of the waking town were concelaled in the wet, velvety layers of the early fog ; some hundred yards underneath, the city lay its unending arms crumpling the country in its sharp-edged fingers. The waking city lay as the waking hand of a nineteen-year-old boy which lilifies the world it cups into itself and shows up to the eyes of the outsided passers-by, while the old man was expecting the homecoming of a long-lost afore-dreamt body that was the most beautiful thing he
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