We look forward to a journey, maybe for years, and once we are there the main part of our pleasure consists in knowing that we are a memory the richer. A certain sense of disappointment, not in the landscape, but in the human heart. The vision is there, but not yet the experience. We are like a film at the moment of exposure; it is memory that will develop it. At times one wonders to what extent one experiences the present at all.
—Max Frisch, Sketchbook 1946–1949, p. 85, translated by Geoffrey Skelton.
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