Beginning of last century poets started being interested in the absence of words…they were interested in the space between the words…in the invisible…the unwritten.
What does the absence of a beloved one do to us then?
It might drive us mad…the first years but then…
How can the absence of someone we truly love make us happy?
Maybe we have the chance to preserve the love…
Is it possible that time preserves an emotion just like it does with fossils?

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