At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
So she let the phone keep ringing and she sat there softly singing
Little nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.
I photograph to capture existing phenomena.
Thinking about this day by day, the mountain ceases to be a mountain,
the cloud is no cloud, things left behind are not left behind. . .
maybe I begin to see what only I can see.
We feel that even when all possible scientific questions have been answered,
the problems of life remain completely untouched.
Of course there are then no questions left,
and this itself is the answer.
Ludwig Wittgenstein
Krzysztof Kieślowski - Talking Heads (Gadające głowy), 1980