I think that the photos that we like were made when the photographer knew how to disappear. If there were a secret, certainly that would be it.

Sometimes I envy painters, it is wonderful to remain in front of a bouquet of flowers a whole morning, or even longer. A photographer is like a cloud, pushed all around, always dependent on the exterior world. That's what I sometimes feel as a pain and an error.

Millions of unnecessary photos are taken every day. People stand before the Pyramids and photograph them, when for three cents they could buy postcards which show them much better.

In some way, a photo is like a stolen kiss. In fact a kiss is always stolen, even if the woman is consenting. With a photograph it's the same: always stolen, and still slightly consenting.

To live, to experience the world, to communicate with a camera, all these are interrelated and cannot be separated from everyday live.

Was it the same light that enchanted the first photographers? It is the same, and it is still brand new - it is something that never wears out.

I think that the photos that we like were made when the photographer knew how to disappear. If there were a secret, certainly that would be it.