Tornike Bratchuli

“Every relation between forms in a painting is to some degree adaptable to the painter's purpose. This is not the case with photography. Composition in the profound, formative sense of the word cannot enter into photography. The true content of a photograph is invisible, for it derives from a play, not with form, but with time. One might argue that photography is as close to music as to painting. I have said that a photograph bears witness to a human choice being exercised. The choice is not between photographing X and Y: but between photographing at X moment or at Y moment. The objects recorded in any photograph (from the most effective to the most commonplace) carry approximately the same weight, the same conviction. What varies is the intensity with which we are made aware of the poles of absence and presence. A photograph, while recording what has been seen, always and by its nature refers to what is not seen. It isolates, preserves, and presents a moment taken from a continuum. The only decision (the still photographer) can take is as regards the moment he chooses to isolate. Yet this apparent limitation gives the photograph its unique power. The immediate relation between what is present and what is absent is particular to each photograph: it may be that of ice to sun, of grief to tragedy, of a smile to a pleasure, of a body to love, of a winning race-horse to the race it has run.”
― John Berger, Understanding a Photograph

“He dreamed of ambassadorial limousines crashing into jack-knifing butane tankers, of taxis filled with celebrating children colliding head-on below the bright display windows of deserted supermarkets. He dreamed of alienated brothers and sisters, by chance meeting each other on collision courses on the access roads of petrochemical plants, their unconscious incest made explicit in this colliding metal, in the heamorrhages of their brain tissue flowering beneath the aluminized compression chambers and reactions vessels.”
― J.G. Ballard, Crash

“Papi was a voracious reader, couldn't even go cheating without a paperback in his pocket.”
― Junot Díaz, Drown

“შემდგომად სამისა დღისა მიუხდა ზედა ციალას, დისშვილსა ბიძინასაას, და განშიშვლდა და აღიღო ფალოსი და უხეთქნა მას თავსა, და ჩაჰფლა და თვალი ერთი დაუბუშტა, და მჯიღითა სცემდა ძუძუსა მისსა უწყალოდ და თმითა მიმოითრევდა, და მხიარულ იქმნდა ციალა ფრიად და ნეტარებდა უზომოდ, და განძლიერდა ტყნაური მათი.”
― Dato Barbakadze, ტრფობა წამებულთა • Passion of the Martyrs