For an occurrence to become an adventure, it is necessary and sufficient for one to recount it.

...people talk a lot about this famous passing of time, but you scarcely see it. You see a woman, you think that one day she will be old, only you don't SEE her grow old. But there are moments when you think you SEE her growing old and you feel yourself growing old with her: that is the feeling of adventure.

This feeling of adventure definitely does not come from events: I have proved it. It’s rather the way in which the moments are linked together. I think this is what happens: you suddenly feel that time is passing, that each instant leads to another, this one to another one, and so on; that each instant is annihilated, and that it isn’t worth while to hold it back, etc., etc. (. . .) If I remember correctly, they call that the irreversibility of time.

This feeling of adventure definitely does not come from events: I have proved it. It's rather the way in which the moments are linked together.

What sort of adventures?' I asked him, astonished. ‘All sorts, Monsieur. Getting on the wrong train. Stopping in an unknown city. Losing your briefcase, being arrested by mistake, spending the night in prison. Monsieur, I believe the word adventure could be defined: an event out of the ordinary without being necessarily extraordinary.

Something begins in order to end: an adventure doesn't let itself be extended it achieves significance only through its death.

What the painter adds to the canvas are the days of his life. The adventure of living, hurtling toward death.