You should never be here too much; be so far away that they can’t find you, they can’t get at you to shape, to mould. Be so far away, like the mountains, like the unpolluted air; be so far away that you have no parents, no relations, no family, no country; be so far away that you don’t know even where you are. Keep far away; keep a distance which can never be crossed over; keep a passage open always through which no one can come. Don’t let them find you; don’t come into contact with them too closely. You should never be here too much, be so far away that even you cannot find yourself.
Minjung Kim - Mountains, mixed media on rice paper, 2008
All bad writers are in love with the epic.
Nocturne 43, Chad Wys (2011)
He returns years later, has no demands.
He wants only one, most precious thing:
To see, purely and simply, without name,
Without expectations, fears, or hopes,
At the edge where there is no I or not-I.
— Czesław Miłosz
The Tate Gallery, London, England, 1993. Photographed by Elliott Erwitt.
Could it think, the heart would stop beating.
— Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
Letter from Franz Kafka to Oskar Pollak