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  • C'è una finestra che guarda in fronte a casa mia, con alberi dannati dalle malattie. Vecchi rubagalline ne colgono i frutti: funghi parassiti cresciuti su escrementi di cani. Alberi sempre detestati capaci di perdere foglie in ogni stagione dell'anno, immortali probabilmente e buoni nemmeno a far ombra quando serve.
    C'è una finestra affacciata in fronte a casa mia, nera di questi rancori.
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