Martin Heidegger/William Eggleston/Roberto Rossellini

I can’t remember where I read about Heidegger’s trip to Greece to see the place of the Golden Age. When he got there he was horribly disappointed and found the whole thing rather garish and touristic and disgusting. It seems extraordinary to me that Heidegger could have been so stupid?
But then there is also the story about William Eggleston going to Paris as a young man to be an arty bohemian Eurocentric loony. He spent, I think, a few weeks there and couldn’t bear the smell and the mess and the noise and the revolting ruined-ness of the dream of the centre of the world.

I always wonder about people who go places, go on holiday or whatever and LOVE it. Going on holiday, travelling, is always, basically, Stromboli. The offer of suicide.