Art in Nature

could be liberating every morning at five o’clock to read through all the world’s worst shit and then have the shittiness confirmed by seeing it all shredded

The word “atelier” unavoidably conveys an impression of picturesque romantic squalor.

The young people were not dancing. Why should they? They could afford not to. Wherever they went, their own music followed them.

The caretaker liked the evenings and the nights. He didn’t need much sleep and often sat by himself in the peace and quiet of the lake shore for hours. He didn’t remember, he didn’t worry, he just was. The only thing that troubled him was that the exhibition would close in the autumn.

Almost all the feet moved respectfully. If they were with a guide, they’d stand still for a while, all turned in the same direction, and then they’d change direction all at the same time to look at something else. The lonely feet were uncertain in the beginning, then they’d move slowly at an angle, stop, stand with legs crossed, turn around, and sometimes they’d lift one foot and scratch with it because there were lots of mosquitoes.