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Comments about Tine Wilde
House Between Shadow And Tomorrow
Our family is a traveling family.
From memory emerges a picture
of my father's father.
I am about seven years old
laying my hand
on a red plush armchair
where this stony Colossus sits
puffing away smoke screen.
From behind steamed up gold-rimmed goggles
he stares through me
through a pale window
trying to reach indescribable wide vistas.
I never heard him speak
his posture said it all
he played a waiting game.
In former days - according to my mother -
he always used to muse about tomorrow
with broad gestures underlining ...