This morning we stumbled upon broken images from a waste land .There April is the cruelest month and Madam Sosostris had a bad cold. Nevertheless lovely women stoop to be conquered .When conquered ,they smooth their hair and put a record on gramophone.
We were taken to a dry old river bed where we were boys treading fearfully away from other people’s dreams. They said tread softly as you are treading on broken images from yesterday’s wholes still warm from flesh.
They were pieces of wood coal mixed with pale white bone pieces .There were meant to be re-engineered to be wholes they had been before they came to the river bed.
But now there will be waters released by an upstream dam and the waters will take away pieces of our images to the high seas where all engineering is irreversibly lost.