Thus we have man outside the world, and outside himself. We cannot classify him among the living, so superficial is his contact with life; his contact with death is no less so. Not having been able to find his exact place between the one and the other, he has cheated from the first: an intruder, a pseudo-animal, a false mortal, an impostor. Consciousness, that non-participation in what one is, that faculty of not coinciding with anything, was not provided for in the economy of creation. Man knows it but he has neither the courage to assume it to the end and to die of it, nor to repudiate it in order to save himself. Alien to his nature, alone amid himself, detached from both the here at hand and the beyond, he espouses no reality utterly: how could he, when he is only half real. A being without existence.
(photographs by R. Frank and G. Winograd)
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