"Fotografo per vedere che aspetto avrà una cosa una volta fotografata"
I mean to strike you without hate,As butchers do; as Moses didThe rock. From under either lidYour tears will flow to inundateThis huge Sahara which is I.My heart, insensible with pain,Caught in that flood will live again:Will care whether it live or die —Will strive as in the salty sea,Drunken with brine and all but drowned,Yet driven onward by the soundOf your wild sobbing endlessly!For look — I am at war, my dear,With the whole universe. I knowThere is no medicine for my woe.Believe me, it is called Despair.It runs in all my veins. I pray:It cries in all my words. I amThe very glass where what I damnLeers and admires itself all day.I am the wound — I am the knifeThe deep wound scabbards; the outdrawnRack, and the writhing thereupon;The lifeless, and the taker of life.I murder what I most adore,Laughing: I am indeed of thoseCondemned for ever without reposeTo laugh — but who can smile no more.'(Charles Baudelaire, 1821-1867)
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