HOME

I began drawing again; this time from a sculpture that caught my eye. Then I started thinking about Eliot's EAST COKER and found this passage:

Home is where one starts from.

As we grow older

The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated

Of dead and living.

Not the intense moment

Isolated with no before and after,

But a lifetime burning in every moment

And not the lifetime of one man only

But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.

There is a time for the evening under starlight,

A time for the evening under lamplight

(The evening with the photograph album).

Love is most nearly itself

When here and now cease to matter.

Old men ought to be explores

Here or there does not matter

We must be still and still moving

Into another intensity

For a deeper union, a deeper communion

Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,

The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters

Of the petrel and the porpoise.

In my end is my beginning.

-T.S. Eliot