No way, I'm not a comedian. At least when I write, perhaps. Or the fact that I do not know when and if someone laughs reading something written by me. But it seems unlikely. So after that ramble free and absorbed (reminds me of something ...) here is a poem
Beauty: staying enchanted
Magic: the endless whisper of the world comes to us from the waves
Pleasure: From far away as the horizon is a And now look
sea.
Maria Teresa de Sanctis
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