This week we are entering the last part of The Waste Land: What the Thunder Said. This part of the poem reverts to the theme of the first part: the absence of water. Our society as a cultural desert. In this wasteland, the rocks offer absolutely no hope.
Where there is no hope, what else is there to do but die slowly?
I made me think of the people in the vintage photos I use for this project. One hundred years have passed and who remembers them? What were their stories? Were they loved? Did they find happiness?
Did they grow old or were their lives cut short? These happy, smiling children in their pretty frocks, what is left of them now? Torn photographs in old albums.
We will never know really.