And always the animals from each trip you bring back a gaze a pose a gesture that points to the truest of humanity better than images of humanity itself

An object dies when the gaze that lights on it has disappeared.

Rarely has reality needed so much to be imagined.

When men die, they enter history. When statues die, they enter art. This botany of death is what we call culture.

Who said that time heals all wounds? It would be better to say that time heals everything - except wounds. With time, the hurt of separation loses its real limits. With time, the desired body will soon disappear, and if the desiring body has already ceased to exist for the other, then what remains is a wound, disembodied.

I’ve been round the world several times and now only banality still interests me.

And always the animals from each trip you bring back a gaze a pose a gesture that points to the truest of humanity better than images of humanity itself