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Bring me the sunflower that I may transplant it in my saline burned ground, and that it might display all day to the blue expanses of the sky the anxiety of its pale yellow face. Things that are dark long for brightness, the bodies exhaust themselves in a flowing of colours: these become music. To fade away is therefore a chance among chances. Bring me the plant which leads to where the blonde transparencies appear and where life dissolves like essence; bring me the sunflower insane with light.
(Eugenio
Montale, Ossi di Seppia
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