NYC - September 2001

Perhaps if I steal from Thomas Wolfe and give him his proper due - not the "man in full" but the "homeward angel" - he might reappear for you.

Then see him up there where the Rockies rise, his legs dangling over the ledge above Denver, eight thousand feet in the air. Before him the plains, behind the Pacific, stars coming out on a summer's night and everywhere the twilight falls on America.

To the right is Amarillo, beyond it the Astros at play;over my shoulder, Seattle, over the other, beyond the great canyon, gas fumes and fast food mix with the smell of LA. Hear the blues parade across the stage. Up from New Orleans into Chicago see all the clusters of lights beyond. Follow the fashion of rock 'n' roll - St. Louis to Cleveland to Philly to bond the nation's soul with music in its cars.

And in our hearts, love of the physical entity. America. Identity in doubt. We can't go home again, so we're runaway vagabonds lost in twilight, wondering
what we're about.

Art Garfunkel
September 2001