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  • ALL MY STORIES HAVE BEEN MOVED TO https://medium.com/@jean_claude707

    ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞



    T'was the sound of tears
    falling on the leaves of a rose bush
    which brought me out in the early hours of the day.
    Night recalcitrant to vanish,
    wanting, for a day, to be Queen of Noon.
    She wrapped herself into the limbs of trees
    and hid under the thick skirts of shrubs.
    But Day would not give consent to the absurd.
    Before melting into a river of light
    Night lodged itself into my mind,
    just long enough,
    to deposit a veil of melancholia.

    [jean-claude constantly seeking and photographing THE mystery]
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