They called me the hyacinth girl
Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,Your arms
full, and your hair wet, I could notSpeak, and my eyes failed, I was
neitherLiving nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Because T.S. Eliot was the first poet that made me cry. I wept at the beauty of The Waste Land, a poem my professor chose not to work with because it was "unnecessarily complex for undergraduate students like you." Instead, we had Prufrock, which was considerably less complicated, terribly pale and absolutely unfair to the greatness of Eliot. Cheers for me buying myself a tripod! Right, it is a meager 12 cm tripod that barely sustains the weight of my D40, but at least an can let go of the camera; that is the smile of a 29-year-old who feels her life will take a turn for the better soon. :D
Song of Myself
Dive into the Un...