“Writing will endure”, is the saying. Language is the bridge between sight and not-sight, between the world of then and the world of now, between me and you. I tried to let my images speak for me, for a long time. Language = longing in Dutch; the word “talen”. We all have this longing inside of us, our conscious thinking is “wordy” thinking, and there the problem lies. If something is this, it is not that and instead of thinking it is neither, or both, we think the words fit that small patch of what we think is reality. Perhaps that’s why the love of languages, because it is the multiplicity that is irresistible to me: between the words, between the multiple meanings, there is nothing: the patch of existence that is covered by it is empty of meaning, is in between the words, is all the words or none of them. The same with love. First others, then myself, seeing myself through others, there is everything and nothing between you and me. There is a fullness which is empty of meaning that separates it from other meanings. So there is flow, there is space and openness.