Window.

What today, look!, has covered our sky is not a dark cloud. This curtain is not a cloud. It is the wings of smiling angels above the city, it is a rippling silk ceiling over the city’s head. Over the city’s head is the magic mirror of the horizon of tomorrows, with the beautiful faces of thousands of angels who were buried but did not die: they only took wing, free, above the captive city. . Don’t cry! Come, let us clean the window of yesterday’s dust!...