POZZO
An hour ago, after having poured forth even since say ten o'clock in the morning tirelessly torrents of red and white light, it begins to lose its effulgence, to grow pale, ever a little paler, until—pppfff! Finished! It comes to rest. But behind this veil of gentleness and peace, night is charging and will burst upon us—pop!—like that! Just when we…
