Narrator:
How do you render events? How to say or show that at 4:10 p.m. that afternoon, Juliette and Marianne came to the garage where Juliette's husband works? Right way, wrong way - how can one say exactly what happened? Of course, there is Juliette, her husband, the garage. But are these the words and images to use? Are there no others? Am I talking too loud, looking too close?
Narrator:
Objects exist, and if we pay them more attention than we do people, it is because they exist more than those people. Dead objects live on. Living people are often dead already.
Narrator:
Should I have talked about Juliette or the leaves, since it's impossible to do both at once? Let's say that both, on this October evening, trembled slightly.
Narrator:
There is increasing interaction between images and language. One might say that living in society today is almost like living in a vast comic strip.
Narrator:
What is art? Form becoming style; but the style is the man; therefore art is the humanizing of forms.
Narrator:
Where is the beginning? But what beginning? God created heaven and earth. But one should be able to put it better. To say that the limits of language, of my language, are those of the world, of my world, and that in speaking, I limit the world, I end it. And when mysterious, logical death abolishes those limits, there will be no question, no answer, just vagueness.