And So They Are Ever Returning To

How Happily, Said Austerlitz, Have I Sat Over A Book In The Deepening Twilight Until I Could No Longer Make Out The Words And My Mind Began To Wander, And How Secure Have I Felt Seated At The Desk In My House In The Dark Night, Just Watching The Tip Of My Pencil In The Lamplight Following Its Shadow, As If Of Its Own Accord And With Perfect Fidelity, While That Shadow Moved Regularly From Left To Right, Line By Line, Over The Ruled Paper.

Physicists Now Say There Is No Such Thing As Time: Everything Co-exists. Chronology Is Entirely Artificial And Essentially Determined By Emotion. Contiguity Suggests Layers Of Things, The Past And Present Somehow Coalescing Or Co-existing.

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.

Human Civilization Has Been No More Than A Strange Luminescence Growing More Intense By The Hour, Of Which No One Can Say When It Will Begin To Wane And When It Will Fade Away.

In My Photographic Work I Was Always Especially Entranced... By The Moment When The Shadows Of Reality, So To Speak, Emerge Out Of Nothing On The Exposed Paper, As Memories Do In The Middle Of The Night, Darkening Again If You Try To Cling To Them.