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dust

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The DUST has come to stay. You my stay or pass on through or whatever

(Paris, Texas, Wim Wenders, 1984)

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
(Maya Angelou)

En el archivo de Robert Venturi y Denise Scott-Brown

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