I grew up in this town my poetry was born between the hill and the river it took its voice from the rain and like the timber it steeped itself in the forests.
It was clear to me that the forms of consciousness of our inherited and acquired historical education - aesthetic consciousness and historical consciousness - presented alienated forms of our true historical being.
In fact history does not belong to us but we belong to it.
In Holland they have come to precisely the same conclusion. There they have...