When You Die, You Are Extinguished. From

When Film Is Not A Document, It Is Dream. That Is Why Tarkovsky Is The Greatest Of Them All. He Moves With Such Naturalness In The Room Of Dreams. He Doesn't Explain. What Should He Explain Anyhow? He Is A Spectator, Capable Of Staging His Visions In The Most Unwieldy But, In A Way, The Most Willing Of Media. All My Life I Have Hammered On The Doors Of The Rooms In Which He Moves So Naturally. Only A Few Times Have I Managed To Creep Inside. Most Of My Conscious Efforts Have Ended In Embarrassing Failure - The Serpent's Egg, The Touch, Face To Face And So On.

This Damned Ranting About Doom. Is That Food For The Minds Of Modern People? Do They Really Expect Us To Take Them Seriously?

First, I Write Down All I Know About The Story, At Length And In Detail. Then I Sink The Iceberg And Let Some Of It Float Up Just A Little.

I Have Thus Decided To Make A Certain Film And Now Begins The Complicated And Difficult-to-master Work. To Transfer Rhythms, Moods, Atmosphere, Tensions, Sequences, Tones And Scents Into Words And Sentences In A Readable Or At Least Understandable Script. This Is Difficult But Not Impossible.

Our Social Relationships Are Limited, Most Of The Time, To Gossip And Criticizing People's Behavior. This Observation Slowly Pushed Me To Isolate From The So-called Social Life. My Days Pass By In Solitude.