"Of the streets that fade into the setting sun,
there must be one (which one, I can't say)
that I've walked for the very last time."
there must be one (which one, I can't say)
that I've walked for the very last time."
– J. L. Borges
The Poet is a kinsman in the clouds
Who scoffs at archers, loves a stormy day;
But on the ground, among the hooting crowds,
He cannot walk, his wings are in the way.
— L’Albatros, C. Baudelaire
Who scoffs at archers, loves a stormy day;
But on the ground, among the hooting crowds,
He cannot walk, his wings are in the way.
— L’Albatros, C. Baudelaire
