postscript on “olive-tree”
finally, it was not beetle’s wooden wings that burnt, but the olive-tree. the beetle-arsonist has still its wings, but not anymore its heart. that olive-tree was its heart.
finally, it was not beetle’s wooden wings that burnt, but the olive-tree. the beetle-arsonist has still its wings, but not anymore its heart. that olive-tree was its heart.
>> critique , segregatus , violence