Like dreams, statistics are a form of wish fulfillment.

All societies end up wearing masks.

Smile and others will smile back.

It is a world completely rotten with wealth, power, senility, indifference, puritanism and mental hygiene, poverty and waste, technological futility and aimless violence, and yet I cannot help but feel it has about it something of the dawning of the universe. Perhaps because the entire world continues to dream of New York, even as New York dominates and exploits it.

Every photographed object is merely the trace left behind by the disappearance of all the rest. It is an almost perfect crime, an almost total resolution of the world, which merely leave the illusion of a particular object shining forth, the image of which then becomes an impenetrable enigma.

This is what terrorism is occupied with as well: making real, palpable violence surface in opposition to the invisible violence of security.

Fiction is not imagination. It is what anticipates imagination by giving it the form of reality.