
An ongoing digital archive proving that I read, I saw, and I actually paid attention.



“But what you are left with is a premonition of the way your life will fade behind you, like a book you have read too quickly, leaving a dwindling trail of images and emotions, until all you can remember is a name.”

“Limbo is at the apex of visual sophistication: an extra-dimensional loft done out in luxury-plain Jil Sander grey. Empty and placid, with not even a reproduction Eames chair to interrupt the anodyne tastefulness. No mess, no colour, no life. No hint of recidivist ornament – Adolf Loos would have loved limbo. In Harold Pinter’s words, a ‘No man’s land, which never moves, which never changes, which never grows older, which remains forever icy and silent.’”



“‘Since one cannot have truth,’ cried Sebastian, struggling into his evening shirt, ‘let us at least have good manners.’”

“Christmas children peek through Christmas windows.”

“You see, back where I come from, we got a whole lot of people who believe all sorts of things that aren’t true. You know what we call it? History.”





“Any adequate response to the mystery of existence must be poetic, for only the poetic can take on the ‘why.’”