From childhood on I have had the dream of life lived as a sacrament… the dream implied taking life ritually as something holy.
I have been sitting watching that ever since I came back, the continuous variations of light and shadow.
It was a world that I wanted to record because it was such a miracle visitation to me.
I don’t know what idiocies drove me in those days, but they were naive, innocent idiocies in many ways.
The average European does not seem to feel free until he succeeds in enslaving and oppressing others.
But our waking life, and our growing years, were for the most part spent in the kitchen, and until we married, or ran away, it was the common room we shared.
Between truth and the search for it, I choose the second.
When everything else physical and mental seems to diminish, the appreciation of beauty is on the increase.
That last winter was a tragic story and I got no personal honour out of it but I was a witness to it.
I expected to be shot at any moment and if they had done I would have understood, that they couldn’t take risks with someone foolhardy or so unpredictable.