The way up has always been the point.
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500gsm · 100% cotton · Hahnemühle Photo Rag · Archival pigment inks · 6 × 18 cm · Matte finish.
Sanctuaires series · 13 of 20 different sets.
Catalogue Nº 062 of 100.
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You decide to walk somewhere instead of driving. The first hour is fine. The third hour is when the conversation with yourself opens a door. The blisters develop on the second morning and disappear by the fourth. The strangers you meet at small inns along the way become, briefly, the most important people in your life, and then you never see them again. By the time you arrive, you are not the person who started. That, not the destination, is the thing you came for.
A summit in Sichuan with a golden Buddha at the top, four-faced, watching in every direction. People have been walking up here for over a thousand years. Plenty arrive and find the cloud has settled in, and they cannot see the statue at all. They mostly do not seem to mind. The statue was the destination. It was not really the point. The walk was.
Sits alongside Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse, The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen, or any book carried in a backpack on a long climb.
Somebody, a long time ago, walked up to this exact point on a mountain or a coast or a high plateau and decided this was where the building had to go. They did the work. Stone was brought from somewhere. A roof was built. A bell was hung. The whole thing was finished, and the next morning the wind kept moving exactly as it always had. The building has been there ever since. It does not need you to admire it. It needs you to be quiet.