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Reading room
I hear the muttering of wet roofs,
pale eclogues from stones and kerb.
From the opening lines, that city,
is alive in each sound, each word.
—— Boris Pasternak·To Anna Akhmatova
pale eclogues from stones and kerb.
From the opening lines, that city,
is alive in each sound, each word.
—— Boris Pasternak·To Anna Akhmatova
ColRam, , LotharW, and 28 other people have particularly liked this photo
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