shashasha

We live our usual lives in a world full of such riddles as if it were no big deal-myself, the cats, the crows, the weeds, the trees, the bread, the children-yet we are nameless experiences, nothing special, and we know nothing, we simply are, and then eventually cease to be.With my "gaze fixed upon that which disappear," I listen for the soundless voice and look intently at the invisible world, boldly pointing, "Look. Here it is." That is what this book of photographs is about. (from the postscript)