
I tried to do something very simple like a mail box or just a window.
What do you see, when you look outside a window?
I read that looking from outside into an open window one never sees as much as when one looks through a closed window.
What one can see out in the sunlight is always less interesting than what goes on behind a window. There is life there, dreams and sometimes suffering.
Once I saw in the window an old woman’s face. Her face was wrinkled and her dress was very simple. And out of her face, her dress, and her gestures, out of practically nothing, I have made up this woman’s story in my imagination.
You probably would ask me am I sure that my story was a real one?
Does it really mater? What matters that we can feel, imagine and create.