When I open my walletto show my paperspay moneyor check the time of a trainI look at your face.The flower's pollenis older than the mountainsAravis is youngas mountains go.The flower's ovuleswill be seeding stillwhen Aravis then agedis no more than a hill.The flower in the heart'swallet, the forceof what lives usoutliving the mountain.And our faces, my heart, brief asphotos.
-John Berger
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