Manhattan. Sometimes from beyond the skyscrapers, across the hundreds of thousands of high walls, the cry of a tugboat finds you i...n your insomnia in the middle of the night, and you remember that this desert of iron and cement is an island.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
To live is to hurt others, and through others, to hurt oneself. Cruel earth! How can we manage not to touch anything? To find what... ultimate exile?LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
As usual I finish the day before the sea, sumptuous this evening beneath the moon, which writes Arab symbols with phosphorescent s...treaks on the slow swells. There is no end to the sky and the waters. How well they accompany sadness!LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »