Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E. Bourland 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 . . .

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Gnome Gone Hog for a While

Give me the quintessential freedom on the open roads afforded by a Harley, an American icon.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Gnome in Archer


I put some miles on the Z3 this evening by driving to Archer City. As I drove up to the main corner, I noted that the sun's rays lit the Spur Hotel nicely, and so I parked across the street for a quick photo. I hadn't noticed the two skateboarders practicing their agility on the porch of the hotel until I stood next to the car looking at the hotel. One of them called to me, "Hey, can you take a picture of us skateboarding?" I would anyway, so I took a sequence of them in action. Some of them turned out pretty well, and I emailed them to the skateboarders. One of the things they asked me about was a skateboard park. "Do you know the major?" they wanted to know. I could only encourage them to visit the big city of Wichita Falls nearby to use the newly-opened skate park.



Zooming down the highway I saw the sign pointing to the cemetery. I had to go there to photograph Will's mausoleum. He is long gone, but his presence is still strong, as if he were still alive and sitting next to me.

Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

Give 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.