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(*, PART FIFTEEN, I PUSHED MYSELF INTO THE HEART OF THE WORLD, Better to…
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the smell of fish, of wood and of the sea.
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of conchs, of shells, of nomadic seaweeds.
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risking my eyes, my song, my very life,
I saw the river fall apart, dismayed
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I saw the sea being reborn, humbling itself
possessed by a fleeting indiscipline,
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and it is stronger than the one which, before,
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