I Could Always Live In

Fellini, Kurosawa, And Bunuel Move In The Same Field As Tarkovsky. Antonioni Was On His Way, But Expired, Suffocated By His Own Tediousness.

Here, In My Solitude, I Have The Feeling That I Contain Too Much Humanity.

I Am Conscious About Myself And Everything, And Then Suddenly, Or Slowly, My Conscious Fades Out. Switches Off. And It's Not Existing, And That's A Marvelous Feeling. That From Existing, I Am Not Existing. And At That Moment, Nothing Can Happen To Me.

This Damned Ranting About Doom. Is That Food For The Minds Of Modern People? Do They Really Expect Us To Take Them Seriously?

For Me, In Those Days, The Great Question Was: Does God Exist? Or Doesn't God Exist? Can We, By An Attitude Of Faith, Attain To A Sense Of Community And A Better World? Or, If God Doesn't Exist, What Do We Do Then? What Does Our World Look Like Then? In None Of This Was There The Least Political Colour.