Consciousness even in my sleep changes primary colors. The features of my face melt like a wax doll in the fire. And who can consent to see in the mirror the mere face of man? (Czesław Miłosz)

Consciousness even in my sleep changes primary colors. The features of my face melt like a wax doll in the fire. And who can consent to see in the mirror the mere face of man?

Czesław Miłosz

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consciousness consent doll face fire man melt mere mirror primary see sleep wax colors

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