Trafika Europe 12 - French Bon-Bons

Martine Morillon-Carreau

A freshness comes from the sea The noises were silent For a long time shrouded in darkness lost among the sad forests an illusory sun rose

The passage of the angel towards a far off of which I knew nothing

The hardness the permanence of the stones to reassure perhaps

our footsteps

without permanence

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