One Has To Manage Alone As Best

All Of Us Collect Fortunes When We Are Children. A Fortune Of Colors, Of Lights, And Darkness, Of Movement, Of Tensions. Some Of Us Have The Fantastic Chance To Go Back To His Fortune When Grown Up.

No Form Of Art Goes Beyond Ordinary Consciousness As Film Does, Straight To Our Emotions, Deep Into The Twilight Room Of The Soul.

Occasionally I Sense An Insane Wail Deep Down In The Pit, The Echo Alone Reaching Me, Striking Without Warning, A Child Weeping Uninhibitedly, Imprisoned Forever.

I Write Scripts To Serve As Skeletons Awaiting The Flesh And Sinew Of Images.

I Could Always Live In My Art But Never In My Life