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A deep creation and identity


“Nobody can counsel and help you, nobody. There is only one single way. Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you write (take photos); find out whether it is spreading out its roots in the deepest places of your heart, acknowledge to your­self whether you would have to die if it were de­nied you to write (take photos). This above all—ask yourself in the stillest hour of your night: must I write? Delve into yourself for a deep answer. And if this should be affirmative, if you may meet this earnest question with a strong and simple ‘7 must” then build your life according to this necessity; your life even into its most indifferent and slightest hour must be a sign of this urge and a testimony to it Then draw near to Nature.”

“describe your sorrows and desires, passing thoughts and the be­lief in some sort of beauty—describe all these with loving, quiet, humble sincerity, and use, to express yourself, the things in your environment, the im­ages from your dreams, and the objects of your memory. If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for to the creator, there is no poverty and no poor indifferent place.”

“A work of art is good if it has sprung from necessity. In this na­ture of its origin lies the judgment of it: there is no other. Therefore, my dear sir, I know no advice for you save this: to go into yourself and test the deeps in which your life takes rise; at its source, you will find the answer to the question whether you must create. Accept it, just as it sounds, with­out inquiring into it. Perhaps it will turn out that you are called to be an artist.”


The speech between you and me

I have tried to convince myself to keep up safely in my garden. But I have only closed myself from the rest of the world.

I lied to myself for too many times.

I have tried to close my eyes and don’t feel anything until I died inside. I looked back, and I show closed and open tombs.

I step back from you when you saw me.

I run left and right, up and down as like a med person, until I saw you into a reflex between lights and shadows.

I am looking into your eyes for the first time, and I can feel how your fear has grown. Until now that you are not the same person you are.

Is it the way?

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