A letter to Diana, Roman Moon GoddessYou sent me home with a fake moon, which I carried in my back pocket down Via Tacito. How clever! (Silent, saying nothing.) And in that same manner, understood without being openly expressed, I threw it back into the warm Roman night. A newly found autumn quivered in the naked white, bright and boasting neither vice nor virtue. How embarrassing it must have been to watch my street lights shine brighter than your false moon.
From now on, Man will be his own god.
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