The Days Of Our Lives Vanish Utterly,

We Open Our Mouths And Out Flow Words Whose Ancestries We Do Not Even Know. We Are Walking Lexicons. In A Single Sentence Of Idle Chatter We Preserve Latin, Anglo-saxon, Norse: We Carry A Museum Inside Our Heads, Each Day We Commemorate Peoples Of Whom We Have Never Heard.

If We Had Not Met, That Day, I Think I Would Have Imagined You Somehow.

History Unravels; Circumstances, Following Their Natural Inclination, Prefer To Remain Ravelled.

Mythology Is Much Better Stuff Than History. It Has Form; Logic; A Message.

The Photograph Is Concerned With The Power That The Past Has To Interfere With The Present: The Time Bomb In The Cupboard.