I.

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Fresh lights, behind a sigth-blocking tree-trunk.
Summer has come back for another week,
to fulfill what it has forgotten before.
It has come back to remember.
Like a ball pressed down under water
and jumping back out, the questions came,
finally they appeared in a space
that was wide open enough
to hold them present, to make their
constant change visible,
to make it visible how they constantly
change me. Change with me.

By Anna Kiss

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