I Allow No One To Touch Me.

Optics, Developing In Us Through Study, Teach Us To See.

Here, On The River's Verge, I Could Be Busy For Months Without Changing My Place, Simply Leaning A Little More To Right Or Left.

There Is No Light Painting Or Dark Painting, But Simply Relations Of Tones.

Fruits ... Like Having Their Portrait Painted. They Seem To Sit There And Ask Your Forgiveness For Fading. Their Thought Is Given Off With Their Perfumes. They Come With All Their Scents, They Speak Of The Fields They Have Left, The Rain Which Has Nourished Them, The Daybreaks They Have Seen.

You Have No Idea How Life-giving It Is To Find Around One A Youth That Agrees Not To Bury One On The Spot.