“He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and the lions on the beach.”
“There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception.”
“If a building becomes architecture, then it is art.”
“A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know.”
The Dance of Death of Verges, the Fire Runs of Torroella and the Dance of the Devils of the Sacred Valley of Peru. Ancient customs still very much alive.
Small structures made large.
“The deeper the blue becomes, the more strongly it calls man towards the infinite, awakening in him a desire for the pure and, finally, for the supernatural… The brighter it becomes, the more it loses its sound, until it turns into silent stillness and becomes white.”
Tonnes of debris were swept into the sea by the torrential rains, only to be promptly washed ashore by the waves. Since then, the branches and logs that littered the beach have slowly been transformed into shelters by the fishermen who try their luck in the night.
The end of everything.