Every Photograph Is A Certificate Of Presence.

This Endured Absence Is Nothing More Or Less Than Forgetfulness. I Am, Intermittently, Unfaithful. This Is The Condition Of My Survival.

Why Is It Better To Last Than To Burn?

There Is Only One Way Left To Escape The Alienation Of Present Day Society: To Retreat Ahead Of It.

It Must Always Be Considered As Though Spoken By A Character In A Novel

It Is As If The Photograph Always Carries Its Referent With Itself, Both Affected By The Same Amorous Or Funereal Immobility, At The Very Heart Of The Moving World: They Are Glued Together, Limb By Limb, Like The Condemned Man And The Corpse In Certain Tortures; Or Even Like Those Pairs Of Fish (sharks, I Think, According To Michelet) Which Navigate In Convoy, As Though United By An Eternal Coitus.