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Oscar, the Immortal Outcast

We share just a little bit of

The Twentieth Century

But I have always felt Myself

As a Nineteenth-century Soul


Your Gentle Face, so strangely, strongly

Familiar to Me when I was a Child,

And your Bright and Sharp Wit

Gave me Strength and really

Helped Me to go through

The Awful Teenage Years

And my Dreadful Twenties

And They still help Me, for

An Outcast stay an Outcast

And an Albatross always knows

Who can fly far and high like Him.


Vera da Pozzo, Paris, exactly 124 years after Oscar Wilde's death.


And alien tears will fill for him / Pity's long-broken urn, / For his mourners will be outcast men, / And outcasts always mourn. (Epithaph on Oscar Wilde's grave in Pere Lachaise cemetery, from The Ballad of Reading Gaol, 1897)

Some artworks made by me in September and October.




Below, today's page on my Diary.

Picture and quote taken from the official Oscar Wilde's website.

I unfortunately do not have the time to draw, but I will sing again I'm throwing my Arms around Paris this night, at the Piano qui chante.



(C) Vera da Pozzo

(C) Italy is Mine

(C) Italy is Mine and It owes Me a Living


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