This is what I see as I write. A messy world of paper and small ex-votos: a photo of Walser, one of Baudelaire, one of Kafka. My reward Miguel Delibes, a fossil, stamps, rocks, dictionaries and a box with zeal, erasers, staples, never find when I need them. In between, on the wall, my new Ex Libris framed. Since yesterday.
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