„I better go to Canada and live in a wooden house, where I carve myself out a fruit orchard from the hillside and the forest. I will have one of the most beautiful views in the world, an open valley and a river winding, with mountains beyond, and a lake just visible in the north and I will build myself a wide window, to look out on three sides.
When my love to an indian woman – painting roundbellied jars baked in a fire of dung – is unreturned and a stroke takes away my open-air life, then I still manage to walk, with a stick to lean on, to the window that looks out on my view. Here, the changing clouds and light of the river fill my mind with pleasantness and lead my thoughts into endless variation.“