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dug beds and stone, our nerves like long lizards, our bones
like two sisters, we have dug birds, their flight inside the
vacuum and fog, we have hit tin clouds with our hammers,
and they have not heard us; we have got lost in it like in a
deafening palace, between huge chandeliers and lush
herbage, we have lit our fingers with it as if with a lighter
and with them we have drawn shadows and voids on the
walls.
and no, we’ve had no rest.