Chapter 6
Where there was a night too deep to sleep, there was a call. The call was always the same, had the same greedy hotness, distant and wild, and with time became nearer and nearer, eventually turning into a fatal inspiration for me to be a photographer. I once had this kinky madness: If ever I had to starve in isolation, I would choose to drift from one countryside to another for photographing, although the dream was at last repulsed by reality. It took me twenty-eight years to answer that call. Now what was once my imagination had fi nally come into blossom. The call trumpeted wilder as the dream of a change occurred and reoccurred.