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‘I transform “Work” in its analytic meaning (the Work of Mourning, the Dream-Work) into the real “Work” — of...
Horses and geese in a sodden field. Solitaries with luggage on a wet platform. Postage-stamp house on a bit...
Too much of my life so far has depended upon dressing-gowns, Some sort of ‘string-theory’ tied by myself wax-thumbed...
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