My own beauty reflected The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said: "I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected." Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist Narcissus and Goldmund beautyego
Raindrops leaving an erratic trail They do not walk, they drip down the surface of the pictures, they are raindrops leaving an erratic trail, drifting down the paper, as described by Asger Jorn and Guy Debord in their psychogeographies. Smiljan Radić, Some Remains of My Heroes Found Scattered Across a Vacant Lot The driftPsychogeography