Tiny Details Imperceptible To Us Decide Everything!

Time, That Most Abstract Of Humanity's Homes.

I Suppose It Is Submerged Realities That Give To Dreams Their Curious Air Of Hyper-reality. But Perhaps There Is Something Else As Well, Something Nebulous, Gauze-like, Through Which Everything One Sees In A Dream Seems, Paradoxically, Much Clearer. A Pond Becomes A Lake, A Breeze Becomes A Storm, A Handful Of Dust Is A Desert, A Grain Of Sulphur In The Blood Is A Volcanic Inferno. What Manner Of Theater Is It, In Which We Are At Once Playwright, Actor, Stage Manager, Scene Painter And Audience?

The Seasons And The Years Came And Went...and Always...one Was, As The Crow Flies, About 2,000 Km Away - But From Where? - And Day By Day Hour By Hour, With Every Beat Of The Pulse, One Lost More And More Of One's Qualities, Became Less Comprehensible To Oneself, Increasingly Abstract.

We Learn From History As Much As A Rabbit Learns From An Experiment That's Performed Upon It.

I Believe That The Black-and-white Photograph, Or Rather The Gray Zones In The Black-and-white Photograph, Stand For This Territory That Is Located Between Life And Death.