This is a book whose pages contain no written, drawn, painted or printed signs, but that does not mean the pages are blank and dumb. There are only very few words in this book, much less than in this description and they are placed where usually nobody places any text since this part of a book is impenetrable for reader’s eyesight – however it is not in this very case.
Once I wrote: You, the mountain, you’ve hidden yourself behind the labyrinth of the leafless tree, got lost in the misty air. But I do have almost one hundred pictures taken almost from the same place, in different parts of a day and of a year. I will turn these pictures into subtle prints, cover them with unclear tales small as little clouds, tales about everything and nothing, written in three languages … And somebody wishing to see you will have to open noisily the paper window and go through it to the text or through the text to the picture or through the picture to the picture or through the text to the text … What do I make it for? This idea is so common among masters and fakers. But nobody has done it with this mountain, from this place, in this place.