May 17. The fact that we spent a total of about two hours on the rim of the Grand Canyon, while the vast majority of the weekend consisted of pure, sometimes punishing travel time, appears no more miraculous, no more absurd than the place itself.

Yet it is so coincidental. Just because the ratio between the size of our bodies and the geological formations reaches certain unusual values here, our jaws drop. It is all an etude.

And so we have reactions like the tourist who turns away disappointed after ten seconds, or the painter who decides to spend his life here in order to understand a little of the fact that you can’t look at anything, capture anything, store anything inside.