"Piero the Madman" Some lines I think of the idea of a novel, no longer describe people's lives, but about life itself, everything between people, space, sound, color. I want to do this, Joyce has tried it, but it should be the best. At the end of the day, the only thing that matters is the path people choose, and sadly, even when they know who they are and what they are doing, it's still a mystery. Like the smell of eucalyptus. This eternal mystery is life. We are parole deceased. What about trees? Maybe I'm daydreaming, she reminds me of music, her face, we're in the age of two-faced people, we don't need mirrors to talk to ourselves. What was Marianne thinking when she said, "It's a nice day today"? I only see her image and she is saying that the weather is fine today. that is it. Figure out what's the use of this? We are all made up of dreams, and dreams are made up of us. The weather is nice today, my dear. Is it a dream, a language, or death? The weather is nice today, my dear. Today is a beautiful day in life. Language has the power to dispel shadows. Dispels the shadow of the object named after it. Even though language has been compromised in everyday life, it retains its purest meaning. sea, soul, bitterness...
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