Then there are a handful of well done, double-truck photos, wide shots, atmospherics, silhouettes of people walking, and buildings. It comes with a ribbon of text that runs across the four pages. Here's one half, just because the composition was promising.

The non-poem says, "Morning's mists disappear into the early sun and day is launched in lonely splendor ... to ripen, then, into a brazen noon -- holding its bated breath under a heated sky ... and chills into the long limpid shades of evening -- to remain as a memory of our loveliest village."

I never know what these passages are meant to mean, or how they come to pass, and time has forgotten the unimportant conversations that came before them. Who supported the prose, and who groaned about it? Doesn't matter. It's surely meant to set a tone, that earnest tone we all had at 21.

Previous | Next | Glomerata Index | Home