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■ The oak
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I bid farewell to childhood with my soul and my face crumpling
like Jacques Brel singing his music/ I wrote letters and poems without destination where the sun smiled from my old deflated plastic ball the child blew warm air over the train’s window to draw it with a finger and then the ball disappeared and the child breathed over and over again like a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation until he could see the sea with its big sun above and he showed it to everyone as if it were a wonder he stood upright with his hands shading his eyes on the beach where the sand slipped away quicker and quicker how beautiful are footprints in the soft sand/ how thin they are said the child/ I shall build a castle for a small fairy I shall place my yellow panther to guard the gate here is a road towards the castle/ and here is a bridge from an empty matchbox/ I shall build more bridges with white seashells around and I shall place horses on bridges seahorses with their manes waving in the wind my head whizzed from pain/ the howl of the sea was stronger/ my temple bone was a seashell and that trail of footprints climbed to the skies
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