Photographic and poetic meanderings along the countryside or while flying an airplane.
Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .
Friday, January 9, 2009
Gnome Waves Back
For a while now I’ve felt interested in the archaeological aspects of travel. Indians, though, have opened my eyes to see the people who live near the archeological sites. Monuments and the carvings on them that increase their significance become a backdrop to the people who live at their base. In my recently developed view in this regard, India Gate, Humayun’s Tomb, the Jama Masjid Mosque, and the Qutab Minar, loom amazingly above, and yet, it is the people who bustle and hustle next to me that seem the more impressive.
Whatever shyness I had about taking photographs of people quickly diminished this week during my visit to New Delhi. I saw smiles everywhere I turned, and smiling persons would compel me to turn to them to return the friendliness. New Delhians posed as soon as they glimpsed my camera, and stood with smiles, their hands on or around the shoulders of their friends. Pretty soon I learned to not restrain myself with my camera. A high number of the population speaks English, so it was easy, because of both knowledge of the same language and their friendliness, to start conversations on the street, or at the foot of an impressive structure.
I discovered the same friendliness in Jodhpur. Vendors at the old bazaar around the ghanta ghar, or clock tower, smiled up at me, or continued their thoughtful conversations as I aimed my lens at them. Some of them even raised their hands to wave, and kept their position long enough for me to settle on the settings of my camera and compose the photograph.
The experience of walking through the old bazaar was something I would never have imagined, even if Karl had told me about it. It is as beautiful in color as Egypt, and yet, again, the color, like the impressive monuments, becomes a backdrop behind what has become my main focus, the people.
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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin
JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On
Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.
Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.
I'm enjoying your travels through India. Thank you so much!
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