… on… the wasteland….

“What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow

Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,

You cannot say, or guess, for you know only

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,

And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,

And the dry stone no sound of water. Only

There is shadow under this red rock,

(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),

And I will show you something different from either

Your shadow at morning striding behind you

Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;

I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”

~ T.S. Eliot
Wasteland #1

WASTELAND #1

3 thoughts on “… on… the wasteland….

  1. Anjou, full screen and headphones, wow, stark and trippingly gorgeous…good companion for Eliot for sure…I’ve been listening to Samuel Becket…I think we travel similar roads Terry…

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