I catch myself judging myself as that 13-year-old boy, who, of course, rightfully points out that he is only a child. And my membership - well, I was drafted into the Waffen-SS and didn't exactly volunteer, which was just as idiotic. I wanted to be on the submarines and then ended up with the Waffen-SS.

Often I had to imagine the things I needed. I learned very early to read amidst noise. And so I started writing and drawing at an early age.

If work and leisure are soon to be subordinated to this one utopian principle - absolute busyness - then utopia and melancholy will come to coincide: an age without conflict will dawn, perpetually busy - and without consciousness.

We already have the statistics for the future: the growth percentages of pollution, overpopulation, desertification. The future is already in place.

Today I know that all things are watching, that nothing goes unseen, that even wallpaper has a better memory than human beings.

Art is accusation, expression, passion. Art is black charcoal crushing white paper.

It makes me realise that the fantasy of nature is much larger than my own fantasy. I still have things to learn.