(Another painting of mine, no numbered)
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
an excerpt from The Waste Land, by TS Eliot
17-29-09%5D.JPG)
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