there is a willow grows aslant a brook,
"My name, melancholia".
See morethen turn tears to fires
The body journeys into the night. The shadows produce gaps in the memory and there the losses are practised. The body observes itself as it...
See morethere with fantastic garlands did she come
The gaze is witness to the spaces that are built in the contours of the shadow. From the night specters emerge that transfigure memory. A...
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