“I would like to believe and give in to my naiveté, I would like to embrace the fact that I am back in the place where the long fingers of civilization cannot reach me and rip my heart out. At… — Henry Martin Copy Share Image
“Time plays no role in the life of one man—the subtle consciousness of it floating past me is more than enough. Years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds—what does it matter? Floating by, it rubs against my skin, face, and hair—wearing me down, yet polishing me all the while. Time is like fine grains of sand in a desert storm. At… — Henry Martin Copy Share
“In an era where Existence is incontestable, Truth is subjective, and Reality is perceived, fiction must mediate between the three.” — Henry Martin Copy Share Image
“Without children, there is no careless play; the laughter has died. Only the gruesome reality of the day is left, an unchanging reality knowing… — Henry Martin Copy Share Image
“Silence—people are afraid of it—they feel the need to make small talk, anything, just to break the stillness. I don’t feel any such need.… — Henry Martin Copy Share Image
“The people walking by seem so unreal, so removed from the world that any resemblance between them and me seems strictly genealogical. Humanoids with… — Henry Martin Copy Share Image
“I would like to believe and give in to my naiveté, I would like to embrace the fact that I am back in the… — Henry Martin Copy Share Image
“An unexpected sight opens in front of my eyes, a sight I cannot ignore. Instead of the calm waters in front of the fortress,… — Henry Martin Copy Share Image
“We lie on the blanket, our bare bodies basking in the sun like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Only our apples… — Henry Martin Copy Share Image
“The train station—busy, swarming with people, luggage, porters, taxi drivers and limousine chauffeurs—a giant honeycomb, with worker bees flying in and out, carrying the… — Henry Martin Copy Share Image
“My father was a stand–up man who, unfortunately, did not have anything to stand up for. An eternal conflict burned in his heart, a… — Henry Martin Copy Share Image
“I work on the wine. It tastes somewhat tart, but that could be because I normally drink white. However, today is a different kind… — Henry Martin Copy Share Image
