Rarely has reality needed so much to be imagined.

I will have spent my life trying to understand the function of remembering, which is not the opposite of forgetting, but rather its lining. We do not remember. We rewrite memory much as history is rewritten. How can one remember thirst?

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

Nothing sorts out memories from ordinary moments. It is only later that they claim remembrance, when they show their scars.

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

In another time I guess I would have been content with filming girls and cats. But you don’t choose your time.

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.