The Waste Land

     There is something terribly chilling about seeing the places of men empty, the beasts of man walking the streets unaware of their doom. The dogs not yet feral, forgotten, or perhaps lost in the tsunami. I was reminded of the ending of the film "On the Beach".

     It is not right that such places should be.

  


      "APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
         Lilacs out of the dead land,
       mixing  Memory and desire,
       stirring  Dull roots with spring rain."

       ***********************


        "What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow 
         Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,  2
         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,  2
         (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
         "The Waste Land"


           Be seeing you.