What cinema advances is not the power of thought but its 'impower', and thought has never had any other problem. It is precisely this which is much more important than the dream: this difficulty of being, this powerlessness at the heart of thought.

Tarkovsky's wash... the rains that provide rhythm for each film, as intense as in Antonioni or Kurosawa, but with different functions, constantly bring us back to the question: what burning bush, what fire, what soul, what sponge will staunch this earth?