The poet is a faker.
His faking is so real
That he even fakes that is pain,
The pain he truly feels.
And those who read his writings
In the read pain they feel
Not the two pains that were his,
But only the one that is not theirs.
And so in its little tracks
Runs, to entertain reason,
That clockwork train
The thing that is called the heart
(Fernando Pessoa, himself)
Links 5/19/25: Thousands march in Israel parade in NYC; The fighting isn’t
over yet, but Israel has already won; International ‘do-gooders’ aren’t
helping the people of Gaza
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*Ian could not do the links today, so here is an abbreviated version - EoZ*
‘People of Israel aren’t alone’: Thousands march in Israel parade in NYC
The do...
26 minutes ago
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