Shrutiillusion

“I myself am an absolute abyss.”

“I wish that photographs were physical spaces, like tunnels; that you could crawl inside them and go back.”

“So: what’s your story? When you’re alone, when it’s quiet and your mind wanders, what surfaces, over and over despite your best efforts? Psychologists call these ‘intrusive memories,’ the invisible switchboard operations that ensure we never get over our childhoods. I call them ‘golden stories.’ Not because they’re pleasant, necessarily, but because they burn bright.

Don’t allow for your talents to go to waste. You must use them. Work on them. Improve them. Show the world what it is that you bring to this universe; whether it be in pounding crowds, or the subtlety of silence.

“Artists are divided into those who create their own inner world, and those who recreate reality. I undoubtedly belong to the first–but that actually alters nothing: my inner world may be of interest to some, others will be left cold or even irritated by it; the point is that the inner world created by cinematic means always has to be taken as reality, as it were objectively established in the immediacy of the recorded moment.”

Like thunder and lightning, she is beautiful, yet frightening.

Implicit in poetry is the notion that we are deepened by heartbreaks, that we are not so much diminished as enlarged by grief, by our refusal to vanish—to let others vanish— without leaving a verbal record. Poetry is a stubborn art.