Kind eyes that twinkle come to mind when I hear this Simon & Garfunkel number.
When I was a student of English Literature, between 1993-1999, I used to spend much of my time researching (we called it "reference work") at the USIS (United States Information Service) library at the corner of Cathedral Road and Mount Road in Madras.
I spent many a happy afternoon there, thumbing through critical essays on Saul Bellow, Jack Kerouac, Thoreau, Emerson, Whitman...and when my fingers hurt from taking notes, I would walk down to the first floor of the library and thumb through old copies of National Geographic...running my hands over their glossy pages where intensely colored snapshots of American national parks sprang to life. Verdant. Serene. Zen-like with their watchful giant ferns and sombre redwoods. The streams stood frozen crystal...and yet one could hear them tinkle.
I imagined what it might be like to actually hike through the mountains (this is before I read about serial killers and safety issues about women hiking alone or in pairs). At that time, my vision of the great forest as a natural cathedral in praise of the creator remained untainted by fear.
How exactly do Simon & Garfunkel fit into this? Their music would often play in my mind while looking at these photographs...
Enjoy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYD-DIggB2k
April come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain;
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again.
June, she'll change her tune,
In restless walks she'll prowl the night;
July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight.
August, die she must, (Why, Simon & Garfunkel, why?!?!?)
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold;
September I'll remember
A love once new has now grown old.
When I was a student of English Literature, between 1993-1999, I used to spend much of my time researching (we called it "reference work") at the USIS (United States Information Service) library at the corner of Cathedral Road and Mount Road in Madras.
I spent many a happy afternoon there, thumbing through critical essays on Saul Bellow, Jack Kerouac, Thoreau, Emerson, Whitman...and when my fingers hurt from taking notes, I would walk down to the first floor of the library and thumb through old copies of National Geographic...running my hands over their glossy pages where intensely colored snapshots of American national parks sprang to life. Verdant. Serene. Zen-like with their watchful giant ferns and sombre redwoods. The streams stood frozen crystal...and yet one could hear them tinkle.
I imagined what it might be like to actually hike through the mountains (this is before I read about serial killers and safety issues about women hiking alone or in pairs). At that time, my vision of the great forest as a natural cathedral in praise of the creator remained untainted by fear.
How exactly do Simon & Garfunkel fit into this? Their music would often play in my mind while looking at these photographs...
Enjoy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYD-DIggB2k
April come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain;
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again.
June, she'll change her tune,
In restless walks she'll prowl the night;
July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight.
August, die she must, (Why, Simon & Garfunkel, why?!?!?)
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold;
September I'll remember
A love once new has now grown old.
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