Challenge, And Not Desire, Lies At The

As The End Of The Century Approaches, All Our Culture Is Like The Culture Of Flies At The Beginning Of Winter. Having Lost Their Agility, Dreamy And Demented, They Turn Slowly About The Window In The First Icy Mists Of Morning. They Give Themselves A Last Wash And Brush-up, Their Oscillated Eyes Roll, And They Fall Down The Curtains.

The Desert Is A Natural Extension Of The Inner Silence Of The Body.

It Is Not Enough For Theory To Describe And Analyze, It Must Itself Be An Event In The Universe It Describes.

The Price We Pay For The Complexity Of Life Is Too High. When You Think Of All The Effort You Have To Put In -telephonic, Technological And Relational -to Alter Even The Slightest Bit Of Behavior In This Strange World We Call Social Life, You Are Left Pining For The Straightforwardness Of Primitive Peoples And Their Physical Work.

Photography Is Our Exorcism. Primitive Society Had Its Masks, Bourgeois Society Its Mirrors. We Have Our Images.