Posted by
@stonefly in
Kandinsky, Wassily,
Poetry on
05 19th, 2010 |
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The wood grew denser and denser. The red trunks thicker and thicker. The green foliage heavier and heavier. The air darker and darker. The brushes more and more profuse. The toadstools more and more numerous. In the end one found oneself treading on nothing but toadstools. The man found...