A Brancusi incident
Walking through the Montparnasse Cemetery , the Wolf met Brancusi. It was a gray day, not propitious for a conversation, so he recited me a poem with no words. A stone poem, then eternal, and indifferent to all looks. Vegetal and stone, green and grey. Love and death.
This tiny essay has no other intention than express what I felt the first -and last- time I saw The Kiss in Montparnasse .
Constantin Brancusi: “The Kiss” (1908) Cemetery of Montparnasse, Paris
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