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“There lay all my love of life: a silent passion for what would perhaps escape me, a bitterness beneath a flame. Every day, I left this cloister as if I had been wrenched away from myself, inscribed for a short instant in the eternity of the world. And I know full well why I thought then of the unseeing eyes of the Doric Apollos or of Giotto’s burning and rigid figures. It is because in that moment, I truly understood all that such countries could bestow on me. I like the fact that on the shores of the Mediterranean you can find certainties and rules of life, that you can satisfy your own logic and justify optimism and the sense of being part of something larger. For in the end, what struck me then was not a world made to fit man – but which closed in on man.”