In The Fields With Which We Are

Our Image Of Happiness Is Indissolubly Bound Up With The Image Of The Past.

To Perceive The Aura Of An Object We Look At Means To Invest It With The Ability To Look At Us In Return.

Living Substance Conquers The Frenzy Of Destruction Only In The Ecstasy Of Procreation.

Mechanical Reproduction Emancipates The Work Of Art From Its Parasitical Dependence On Ritual.

Less And Less Frequently Do We Encounter People With The Ability To Tell A Tale Properly. More And More Often There Is Embarrassment All Around When The Wish To Hear A Story Is Expressed. It Is As If Something That Seemed Inalienable To Us, The Securest Among Our Possessions, Were Taken From Us: The Ability To Exchange Our Experiences...experience Has Fallen In Value. And It Looks As If It Is Continuing To Fall Into Bottomlessness.