Whatever a guidebook says, wether or not you leave somewhere with a sense of the place is entirely a matter of smell and instinct.

There is no technique, there is just the way to do it. Now, are we going to measure or are we going to cook?

Any arbitrary turning along the way and I would be elsewhere; I would be different.

Where is it written that houses must be beige? Any dun colored house would look better if painted pineapple, cream, ochre, or even a smart sage.

The longer you are in a place, the more you get under its layers.

It’s daunting to find the language so foreign, so distant, but also so thrilling. One is absolved of responsibility when the language is incomprehensible.

Sometimes you have to travel back in time, skirting the obstacles, in order to love someone.