Do you ever get sad knowing that you'll never know all the languages and so since translators make choices (they have to) and things sometimes don't fully translate you can never experience every book exactly as it was originally intended to be read?
web weave about… uh. yearning to start again? trying to break the time loop? wishing to know then what you know now? something like that.
ghosts by henrik ibsen / rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead (1990) dir. tom stoppard / the three sisters by anton chekhov / “brand new city” by mitski
Il denaro può comprare la buccia di molte cose, ma non il seme. Può darvi il cibo ma non l'appetito, la medicina ma non la salute, i conoscenti ma non gli amici, i servitori ma non la fedeltà, giorni di gioia ma non la felicità e la pace.