what great places we could conquer,
with our house by the sea, in the morning, a translucent film of fresh day.
among the grains of sand and those trees that refuse to die, even in salt water.
a certain morning will mark the return of the birds we chase,
incomplete,
it's far too early and without my glasses, the world is far too blurry.
i want to tell you all about my dreams,
but as usual, i've forgotten how to speak.
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