I Could Distinguish The Shape Of Her

Memory Really Matters...only If It Binds Together The Imprint Of The Past And The Project Of The Future, If It Enables Us To Act Without Forgetting What We Wanted To Do, To Become Without Ceasing To Be, And To Be Without Ceasing To Become.

Biographical Data, Even Those Recorded In The Public Registers, Are The Most Private Things One Has, And To Declare Them Openly Is Rather Like Facing A Psychoanalyst.

Cities, Like Dreams, Are Made Of Desires And Fears, Even If The Thread Of Their Discourse Is Secret, Their Rules Are Absurd, Their Perspectives Deceitful, And Everything Conceals Something Else.

Though I Leave The House As Little As Possible, I Have The Impression That Someone Is Disturbing My Papers. More Than Once I Have Discovered That Some Pages Were Missing From My Manuscripts. A Few Days Afterward I Would Find The Pages In Their Place Again. But Often I No Longer Recognize My Manuscripts, As If I Had Forgotten What I Had Written, Or As If Overnight I Were So Changed That No Longer Recognized Myself In The Self Of Yesterday.

The Minute You Start Saying Something, 'ah, How Beautiful! We Must Photograph It!' You Are Already Close To View Of The Person Who Thinks That Everything That Is Not Photographed Is Lost, As If It Had Never Existed, And That Therefore, In Order Really To Live, You Must Photograph As Much As You Can, And To Photograph As Much As You Can You Must Either Live In The Most Photographable Way Possible, Or Else Consider Photographable Every Moment Of Your Life. The First Course Leads To Stupidity; The Second To Madness.