The
rooster is singing, my dear. It sings of a new start. Like it did yesterday,
today and it will even sing tomorrow. The same start that comes ceaselessly,
without stopping. An encouraging start that makes one dream of the things to
come.
The
rooster is singing, my dear, and I have never thanked you. That smell of
moonflower remembers me of you. It is present within yesterday and tomorrow.
And tomorrow is that crystal glass with brown and orange dots, left somewhere in
the vestibule. It sings and I hope you’re proud!
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