Long looking at paintings is equivalent to being dropped into a foreign city, where gradually, out of desire and despair, a few key words, then a little syntax make a clearing in the silence. Art... is a foreign city, and we deceive ourselves when we think it familiar... We have to recognize that the language of art, all art, is not our mother-tongue.

I am not sentimental about kids. Little monsters, most of them, who don’t civilize until they are grown and sometimes not then.

To live only for some future goal is shallow. It's the sides of the mountain that sustain life, not the top.

The sad faces children make when parents forget to buy presents after coming back from traveling is heart breaking.

Written By Prezigha Fafi

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