The sun is not ridiculous, quite the contrary. On everything I like, on the rust of the construction girders, on the rotten boards of the fence, a miserly, uncertain light falls, like the look you give, after a sleepless night, on decisions made with enthusiasm the day before, on pages you have written in one spurt without crossing out a word.

That’s what existence means: draining one’s own self dry without the sense of thirst.

I don't know. Everything. Living. Smoking.

We do not know what we want and yet we are responsible for what we are - that is the fact.

Outside nature, against nature, without excuse, beyond remedy, except what remedy I find within myself.

There are photographers who push for war because they make stories. They search for a Chinese who has a more Chinese are than the others and they end up finding one. They have him take a typically Chinese pose and surround him with chinoiseries. What have they captured on their film? A Chinese? Definitely not: the idea of the Chinese.

To choose not to choose is still to act.