For The Heavenly Fire No Longer Strikes

The Skylines Lit Up At Dead Of Night, The Air-conditioning Systems Cooling Empty Hotels In The Desert And Artificial Light In The Middle Of The Day All Have Something Both Demented And Admirable About Them. The Mindless Luxury Of A Rich Civilization, And Yet Of A Civilization Perhaps As Scared To See The Lights Go Out As Was The Hunter In His Primitive Night.

So-called "realist" Photography Does Not Capture The "what Is." Instead, It Is Preoccupied With What Should Not Be, Like The Reality Of Suffering For Example.

The Price We Pay For The Complexity Of Life Is Too High.

It Is The Real, And Not The Map, Whose Vestiges Subsist Here And There, In The Deserts Which Are No Longer Those Of The Empire But Our Own: The Desert Of The Real Itself.

Americans May Have No Identity, But They Do Have Wonderful Teeth.