The only thing I consider appalling would be to suddenly become a vegetable and a burden on other people. A soul slowly dying out, trapped in a body in which the insides gradually sabotage me - that, I think, would be terrifying.
My pictures are always part of my thinking, and my emotions, tensions, dreams, desires.
The doors between the old man today and the child are still open, wide open. I can stroll through my grandmother's house and know exactly where the pictures are, the furniture was, how it looked, the voice, the smells. I can move from my bed at night today to my childhood in less than a second.
I throw a spear into the darkness. That is intuition. Then I must send an army into the darkness to find the spear. That is intellect.
I am extremely suspicious of dreams, apparitions and visions, both in literature and in films and plays. Perhaps it's because mental excesses of this sort smack too much of being 'arranged.'
In 'The Serpent's Egg,' I created a Berlin which no one recognized, not even I.
