On a poster in the Métro: Estampes Japonaises: Images d’un monde éphémère (Japanese Prints: Images of an ephemeral world)
There is no world that is not ephemeral.
It’s right here in the rumble of the trains, clanging back and forth and back, never arriving, neverending around and around, the snow in flurries, flakes one by one each in its one place, then gone, night descending without warning, all the faces and fine bodies young and old, broken, weary, bursting with joy, strong, upright, hunched idle in boredom, wandering, wishing, resting, promising, pretending, stable and frail, unknown and knowing, simple, direct, a laugh and a shrug, a blink, unseen, subtle as a faint echo in a dream slipping away upon waking.