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  • Writer's pictureMarion Forssell

Memory of now

What is it? Is it the green leaves moving in front of the warm colored buildings? Is it the evening sun saluting gently while waking the night people? The sound of preparing of the bars and restaurants in the narrow alleys of Rome? My God, what is it, that I miss so much? Eternal city, fountains and marble and spirits whispering of hope and promise.

Everything happens at the same time in the memory of now.

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