Three photographs and a postcard
Language is a cover. Our many writing exercises set out over a ground of reality have lead us to the opinion that such a ground does not exist, that the ground is nothing but our own projection. In more general terms, amidst a more human presence, the idea that nature is nothing but a projection of men seems to impose itself. Such a view clearly excuses us from acting as landlords, required to make of the world all that seems necessary. Frankly, I find it hard to believe that we are everything, without there being any kind of alterity. Rather I believe - or think I believe- in the existence of a basis of reality that does not come from humans.