“…This web of time—the strands of which approach one another, bifurcate, intersect or ignore each other through the centuries—embraces every possibility. We do not exist in most of them. In some you exist and not I, while in others I do, and you do not, and yet in others both of us exist. In this one, in which chance has favored me, you have come to my gate. In another, you, crossing the garden, have found me dead. In yet another, I say these very same words but am in error, a phantom…Time is forever dividing itself toward innumerable futures…”
Jorge Luis Borges (1899 - 1986) Garden of Forking Paths, Ficciones. From the Tao of Photography.
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1 comment:
incredible mixtures of image and text; don't know how you do it but it is truly a delight to mind and eye!
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