by Pablo Neruda I love all things, not because they are passionate or sweet-smelling but because, I don't know, because this ocean is yours, and mine: and these buttons and wheels and little forgotten treasures, fans upon whose feathers love has scattered
Exquisite. All of Us includes all the forgotten and invisible….ghosts from the past
So pure.
I love Neruda. And remember Milton Rogovin's Windows That Open Inward.