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Cristina H. Melo, Time for Being an Object

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In one of Antonio Feijó’s poem there is a swan trapped in the snow, uttering his famous song of pain, thinking and feeling the anguish of his near end “crying out lost joys”. His grief sounds to our ears as a fulgurant beautiful singing. And we may also talk about the fulgurant beauty of the whole frame of bleeding feathers […]

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