When images touch the eyes, nerves start to glow. Through difficult processes the vision triggers chain-reactions to activate the imagination. That's science.
Creating fantasy, that confuses everything, and wakes all the senses to provoke reactions... That's art.
I feel unappeasable hunger in my eyes. It drives me to continue my journey across the universe.
Sometimes I'm a silent observer, sometimes I raise my voice. But walking miles to gain my end constantly.
Photos from Blood of a Poet (1930), written and directed by Jean Cocteau.
A surrealistic allegory about the development of an artist, and about the limits of imagination on motion picture.
"Le dormeur vu de prés
ou les surprises de la photographie."
Regards, Miska
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