"The days pass without them noticing me. But what good would it do them if they did? 'My possessions' (Michaux) are windless cliffs. Blue blossoms should grow in the crevices. The bee could gather honey there. That would be more than enough. The riches are: the window, the wind, the knife. And yet: something tiny is missing. Is it a smile, a cry, a stranger?"

As I said: a tiny amount, propagated at least at the speed of sound, is missing." - Herrfurth in a note dated February 13, 1957