Poems
Eugenie and the sun
I waited everyday for her, even if our encounters lasted mere seconds. Four o’ clock would come, and I would be there, waiting. Warmth would fill up the room, and I would try to trap the light, to keep her with me and prevent her from leaving. It never worked. The sun would set anyway, leaving me waiting on my windowsill for her to return the next day.
Camilla Sechi
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