It is dark here in the forest. The leaves rustle over our head, black against the last gold of the sky. The moss is soft and warm. We shall sleep on this moss for many nights, till the beasts of the forest come to tear our body. We have no bed now, save the moss, and no future, save the beasts.
Ayn Rand
2 comments:
Gracias, querido Ernesto, por este remind insoslayable.
Me imagino que la habras leido mucho, no?
Ernesto G
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