see the light flood in through the window, grey and clear. Home country for Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon, the land of saints scholars and other blackguards.
The bed opposite has the young son in his red hair under his duvet, still fast asleep. Ten years old.
And on the floor a mess of suitcases, opened last night, clothing spilling out over their borders.
Turn of the machine, the supercharger, the air maker, the device that lets the dreams end in peace and be forgotten rather than in panic before a threat of asphyxiation. A glottal stop that does not manifest itself in speech.
Turn it off, anyhow.
The son is awake now, going for his clothing, going for the hairbrush, hunting for his spray to help him comb his hair.
Dress, and go forward to the brother in his kitchen, give him his easter socks. GDiscount socks from German C&A. The joke has tradition, and it is the giving of the socks that is important, the remembering of the same. It is not a matter of special qualities of the socks themselves.
Ireland is green with yellow daffodils, a peaceful silence, the beauty of the country overpowering for the stranger and repatriated, part of the daily struggle for those that get on with their lives here.
Instant coffee and toast.
A traditional thing, milk in plastic bottles.
The bed opposite has the young son in his red hair under his duvet, still fast asleep. Ten years old.
And on the floor a mess of suitcases, opened last night, clothing spilling out over their borders.
Turn of the machine, the supercharger, the air maker, the device that lets the dreams end in peace and be forgotten rather than in panic before a threat of asphyxiation. A glottal stop that does not manifest itself in speech.
Turn it off, anyhow.
The son is awake now, going for his clothing, going for the hairbrush, hunting for his spray to help him comb his hair.
Dress, and go forward to the brother in his kitchen, give him his easter socks. GDiscount socks from German C&A. The joke has tradition, and it is the giving of the socks that is important, the remembering of the same. It is not a matter of special qualities of the socks themselves.
Ireland is green with yellow daffodils, a peaceful silence, the beauty of the country overpowering for the stranger and repatriated, part of the daily struggle for those that get on with their lives here.
Instant coffee and toast.
A traditional thing, milk in plastic bottles.
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