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utterlyinevitable · 3 years

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The Conference (Part 9)

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 3.7k Rating: T+ Warning: Some cursing Summary: It’s the evening after the keynote and they go out for a civil dinner date.

A/N: shout out to ruby @starrystarrytrouble for reminding me people actually like reading this mess 💕

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After we finished up the panel I stuck around the conference hall to network whilst Ethan had ditched the crowd at the first opportunity he got, heading back to our hotel room and venturing away from the pecking vultures. To be honest, I didn’t really blame him. Everyone wanted a piece of the poor, well-endowed man.

A couple hours later, I shuffled back into our apartment. My aching feet somehow prevailed without causing me to collapse on the odd geometric carpet floor, or ditching my heels along the way and walking barefoot like some uncultured frosh stumbling home at 3AM. Once through the heavy metal plated door, I headed straight to my room, not throwing a single pleasantry towards Ethan in the seating area. From what I could tell he was typing furiously on his laptop after nursing a scotch - the empty crystal tumbler on the table was a dead giveaway.

The anxiety and delirium inducing stress of the day lifted the second my kinda-sweaty body collapsed onto the private armchair in my room, clutching its aqua-colored arms and sinking into the velvet cushion. Staring out at the familiar skyline my mind started to replay the happenings of the day; every little thing that happened - from the confidence I felt during our speech, to the way that asshole called me out, and how Ethan stood up for me every step of the way. How proud he was even if he relayed the sentiment in such small words.

We survived today. We haven’t strangled each other nor suffered any little deaths. All that’s left for this trip is the tour we have tomorrow morning, and then we’ll be on our way back to Edenbrook. Back to the way things were…

Somehow my tired and self destructive brain decided it wanted to revel in the memories of the last few days. Thinking about all the non-work things that happened this trip. Thinking of all the words shared, and the blast from the past. And the revelation that little adventure birthed.

Fuck me...

Things are weird. Like, so weird. I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m even thinking this… but I miss him. Today showed me how great we are together! Professionally and as friends. We’re the dynamic duo: Ramsey and his Rookie. His. I -

I need to stop thinking that.

I belong to myself. I do what I want when I want and with whom I want.

And so does he. And that’s why I walked away. I’m-

I’m still getting over him.

While simultaneously trying to get under him…

Thoughts wandered back to Ryan and how long it took me to get over the detrimental ‘what if’s of him. If I held on tighter and longer and didn’t get in the way of myself back then - if one thing was different - everything could be different.

A small, revelatory gasp escaped me.

I didn’t want things to be different.

After eight fucking years I finally understood.

If I didn’t love and lose Ryan I never would have found my way to Boston. To Ethan. And here - knowing what I do and having all the experiences of the last few months - I couldn’t continue a life without knowing Ethan Ramsey.

I’m going to do whatever I can to repair our friendship.

I changed my clothes into something not requiring heels - black skinny jeans, a blouse and my trusty Chelsea boots - and my hair pulled back into a bun. Simple, sleek, and completely me. No pomp and circumstance, or hiding behind anything. Just me, making an effort.

With all the determination I could muster I sauntered into the living room where I assumed Ethan would still be.

I was right; he hadn’t changed positions at all. Sitting there on the couch, his feet up on the gaudy footstool with his laptop perched on his lap, tortoise-patterned glasses framing his face, and furiously typing on the keyboard.

“So...” I trailed awkwardly to break the tension surrounding him, leaning against the wall with my hands stuffed in my armpits. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

“Oh,” He planted his feet on the floor and turned to face me fully, moving his laptop off of him and folding his arms in his lap. “Uh, well-”

Quickly I added, “If you’d rather eat alone it’s fine by me. I was thinking of grabbing pizza at John’s.”

Ethan nodded in response, saying, “Sounds good.”

“Cool,” I nodded back. “You ready or…?”

“Let me grab my things,” he stood, collected his things and headed to his room.

Less than two minutes later we headed out of the apartment together, walking side by side. Though this time wasn’t like earlier. There wasn’t the blind determination and need to impress like this morning. Right now we were two people who used to know one another going out to dinner in a spectacular converted synagogue.

***

For anyone who doesn’t know John’s, it’s a local family-style pizza joint. There’s three restaurants around the city and the Times Square location is by far the best. Every time I have a hot minute to spare I try to go - the stained glass and craftsmanship of the building is everything! But you don’t want to hear about that… and neither did Ethan when I tried to fill the silence during our walk with all the reasons to love this place. For some reason he preferred to barge and weave in silence.

Whatever.

Lucky enough he was more chatty once we were seated.

Our table was in the mezzanine with not much of a view besides the stone staircase in the corner and the large dome towering above. The dim lighting complimented the deep wooden table and beige upholstered seating.

We ordered. And without the menu to keep our attention, I tried my hand at conversation once more.

“Be honest, how did we do?”

Looking me in the eyes, ones that mirrored mine, showed such confidence and pride as he said his next words;

“You handled it well, Becca.” There was a tug at the corners of his mouth that pulled at my own. I was about to get a rare Ramsey smile - one I’ve been devoid of for far too long.

“Dare I even say, like a natural.”

I got to revel in the small compliment for a few moments as the server brought over our food - garlic knots, small veggie pizza, and a chef’s side salad.

“I didn’t stutter too much or come off too young?” I couldn’t help but ask when it was just us two again. His opinion matters more than anyone else’s when it comes to my career.

“You did.”

“But you -”

He cut me off, a slight shake of his big head, “You are young and this was your first keynote.” he clarified. And once more he said pridefully, “You did well.”

After what felt like ages we shared a private smile. How he was able to bring me back into myself with a few words and stop fussing over imposter syndrome is a wonder.

“Now eat some pizza and be happy.”

My smile grew to a goofy one by the way he was looking at me, bemused. I refrained from sticking my tongue out and dug into a little slice of heaven. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

We dug in. Letting the flavors dance over my taste buds and make me only as happy as a New York slice could make me. No amount of fantastic sex could compare to pizza. Everything kind of disappeared - time stopped while the first bites settled in my tummy. Even Ethan looked to be enjoying it even though it’s not fancy smancy and artery clogging.

Eventually I broke our companioned silence;

“How was lunch with Chief Fredericks?” I asked as I reached for a scrumptious ball of garlicy dough.

The response left his lips so swiftly he didn’t even bother to look up from his plate;

“Informative.”

I scoffed at the non-answer answer.

My little grumble pulled him out of his bubble and he looked over at me - those damn baby blues challenging my thoughtfully indecent outburst. I just gave him a look right back.

Ethan rolled his eyes and reached for another slice. Cutting it up with a fork and knife like an absolute weirdo.

“He heard about the state budget cuts. Wanted to know what I think and if I’d be open to consult every so often.”

“And?” I probed.

“And what? You know how I feel about the future of Edenbrook.”

“Yes. But if it goes under, what do you think you’ll do? I mean, everyone’s going to be throwing themselves at you.”

I shoved some greenery in my gob to keep from adding the jarring truth.

Everyone throws themselves at you.

But who he gives his attention to is another story.

Ethan shrugged ever so nonchalantly, “I haven’t thought about it.”

The cavalier way he was speaking of his life after Edenbrook had thrown me off. Ethan was never this laid-back. It just wasn’t in his nature. There’s always something for this man to stress over. And Edenbrook’s closing should be his anxiety numero uno.

But here he was, ever so calm.

Hmm...

“Are you in denial?” I said through a bite, fully anticipating another non-answer.

“Maybe.”

The way he said it took me aback. It was inherently honest and soft. All of his jagged features were rounded and there was a dulled little twinkle in his eye.

Yeah, something’s going on here he’s not telling me.

“Ethan -”

And of course he deflects by turning the conversation on me; “What are you going to do?”

Keeping from rolling my eyes at his obvious deflection from roaming into his feelings deeper, I replied, “Transfer my residency.”

“Where?”

“I…” - dammit - “don’t know.”

I haven’t really dwelled on what happens when the hospital closes. Obviously I need to finish residency if I want to be an actual practicing doctor. But the matching process can go screw itself. I don’t never ever want to do that again - all I cared about was matching with the best. And I did. So who’s the second best now?

Is it wherever he goes?

There’s just so much to think about, and I’d really rather not. Not until the last few nails are lined up against the coffin.

“See,” he said with a hint of a lopsided grin, “Neither of us are ready to leave Edenbrook behind.”

He was right. Of course he’s right. You didn’t need to be a diagnostician or even a doctor to see that we’re holding out hope of a buyout.

I’ve just gotten to Edenbrook - only a few months into my dream career with my dream boss - and now, what? It’s all over before it even really began? No. I can’t accept that.

There was a beat of silence as we both reached for the salad tongs, our hands brushing on accident. Both our eyes shot to bear witness to the contact, pulling us out of whatever ran wild through our thoughts and into this new, secluded moment. Everything around us dulled in the distance; the sounds swirling in the air muted and like a faint breeze. The warm lighting dimmed further, yet there was a spotlight on the salad bowl. The greens and reds and purples of the ruffage illuminated like it was the only thing that mattered. Like right now the earth was spinning just for this moment of closeness.

Surprisingly, neither of us made a motion to move. His large hand overlapping my dainty fingers, the metal underneath the pads of my fingers warming up instantly. Electricity still coursed through me like the very first time. Except now it carried the memories of all the other times and places he set me aflame.

I had to be the one to pull back.

Almost, like it needed time to comprehend why the moment was intentionally ruined, the atmosphere around us began to revert back slightly. I could hear the idle chatter of those around us now. I could see the full picture of Ethan sitting across from me and all the individuals pattering around behind him. What couldn’t pretend to go back and hung off kilter was the beating in my chest - I could feel the electricity coursing through my veins and putting my heart through the ringer.

Ethan made up for it by serving me.

Does he know he still has such an effect on me?

Quick! I needed to divert my thoughts off of the creeping flush and want from taking hold. So I went back to talking about work, our safe topic.

“If you could work anywhere else in the world where would it be?” I asked.

Ethan took a moment to think as he served himself some salad. He looked like he was actually thinking of an answer, maybe, for the first time he’s digested the hospital’s fate.

“I think the next logical step would be the Mayo Clinic. They’re the best diagnostics in the world.” His eyes diverted back down to his plate and, after a beat, he added, “I also wouldn’t mind spending more time on missions with The WHO.”

My eyes searched his as they looked anywhere but where I was seated across from him, trying to find any sort of fault in his features. Something, anything, that I could hold onto. Nothing. Just stupid sincerity. The first fucking time in weeks he actually lets us talk about his time in the Amazon I can’t be mad at him.

“You really enjoyed your time there, huh?”

“It…” he hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

We’ve wandered into emotional territory and we both needed to tread carefully. I need to remember that he was never mine, as much as I felt like his from our first kiss. Need to recall that back then everything was drawn out in plain sight. Our end was always just that - an end. I Need to forgive. And try to remember that at one point he did try to fight for me, in his round-a-bout noncommittal way, and I was the one to end things officially.

We both need to forgive. Especially if these are the last few months we have working together.

“Was important work and I got to make a difference in the lives of thousands of indigenous people.” Ethan took another small pause for breath. When he continued, his deep baritone voice was lower, “Even if my intentions for going were skewed, it was an opportunity of a lifetime.”

The simplest thing to do would be to nod, or eat - distract myself - or even change the subject. To try not to dwell on the implications of the statement. But I couldn’t. My body tensed and the warmth from moments before fled completely.

We were silent. The brutal truth of why he left stinging just as much as it did the day I found out.

Minutes, many many minutes passed with me finding solace in sweet savory carbs and Ethan pushing things around on his plate.

Eager to change the subject there was one other topic of the day I was endlessly curious to know more about;

“So, what’s the deal with Dr. Schwab?”

“Don’t.” He dismissed, his authoritative voice seeping through just a tad. Though I’d like to think he’s smart enough not to use it with me outside of Edenbrook.

“If you don’t tell me I’ll be forced to fabricate my own. I’m feeling a one-night stand gone wrong.”

He looked back down at his food.

“Oh my god, I’m right.” The smile that erupted literally took over my entire face. I could not hide it even if I tried.

“Rebecca,” he tried to scold.

“Now you have to tell me.”

Just like earlier he turned the conversation back on me; “What’s with the frat boy?”

“Ryan was never in a fraternity,” I responded, not hiding the grin that formed by putting Ethan in his place. “He’s a jock though.”

He expelled a dry laugh, “I don’t think that’s any better.” He took a bite of his salad. Something radiated off of Ethan I couldn’t quite place.

“We were close in high school,” I added for reasons I’m not quite sure why. Like that explained who Ryan was and why he came back into my life now, of all times.

Ethan made a condescending, “mhm”.

I rolled my eyes; “We had a thing for a while, okay.” I conceded. “We grew apart senior year, and then I went off to college. Last night was the first time we’ve spoken in, like, eight years.”

Ethan made absolutely no reactions to the statement. Not even a stupid wiggle of his dumb perfect eyebrow.

Is he even paying attention?

“Now tell me about Schwab - sorry, Hilary,” I coaxed.

Ethan’s hand flew to the bridge of his nose and up to carefully rub his eyes.

This has gotta be good.

I waited patiently and eagerly for this story. She couldn’t have been Ethan’s type and yet… What happened!?

Eyes still shut tight, he grumbled, “What’s there to tell?”

“Obviously something happened,” I couldn’t help but mock, “You slept together!”

“Yes, and it’s something I do not like to dwell on.”

“Sorry, buddy, but it looks like she does.”

He groaned. Then shifted in his chair. Ethan took a long drag of his drink. And just when I figured he was going to wait this out until one of us changed the subject, he spoke;

“A moment of weakness a few years back. And she was…”

Ah! It’s actually happening! Ethan’s telling a salacious story!

Shifting in my seat and placing my head in my hands to give him my full attention; My brows and smile grew as I finished the sentence for him, “Eager?”

He scowled.

“Jesus Christ, Ethan, just tell me what happened!”

“I will not go into details.”

“Fine.” I made a motion with my hand for him to continue without the juicy details.

“Harper and I had just ended things for good not long before…”

We ended up going back and forth for a while - Ethan not wanting to give anything up and me pulling as much as I could out of him. Long story short, Ethan was in a weird mental state after breaking up with Harper for the hundredth and final time in their six year relationship. He took up a conference opportunity to get away for two nights. Knowing how much he loves people, Ethan spent most of his time drowning his senses at the hotel bar. And low and behold, enter Hillary.

From the sounds of it she was agreeable and very very forward. And Ethan was so lost in liquor that her voice didn’t irritate him as much as it did the next morning, and every single time they were in close proximity thereafter. Hillary had been going through a separation with her husband and needed a distraction just as bad. Really, who could blame her? Toting Ethan around would be the best revenge.

The first night of his stay was fine - apparently the sex was satisfactory and she didn’t do anything remarkably memorable. Or so he says. I still think she looks like a squawker. He didn’t linger around long after before retreating to his hotel room. Then the next afternoon he was bored and weak and agreed to lunch. And lunch turned into drinks which turned into round two. In his room. And she didn’t leave. She wasn’t leaving. So Ethan bought an earlier plane ticket, and shook her awake before checking out.

And every conference since she seems to want to entertain a rematch.

“Oh my god, you’re horrible!” I exclaimed ever delightfully. This was hilarious!

“I shouldn’t really be surprised. You flew to another continent after we slept together.” Shaking my head, a stupid little smirk on my lips I asked, “Have you ever had a one night stand before?”

“Wha - of course I have!”

“One’s that didn’t end up with you getting on a plane?”

He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “If you must know, I’ve had my fair share in undergrad.”

Now it was my turn to send a condescending “mhm” his way.

We spoke longer and polished off our plates - not a single crumb remained. This was nice. Really nice getting to be close to him again and just being friends. Telling stories and exchanging playful jabs here and there. It’s how I fell for the idiot in the first place.

Baby steps.

Two hours after we arrived the server came over with the bill.

She was friendly and lovely the whole meal. The best part about her style of service is that she let us just exist and didn’t check up all that often. When she did I could tell she overheard someone of the crap Ethan and I were spewing. She had one of those knowing smiles, like she was in on our jokes the entire time.

“Can I just say, you guys are adorable,” she relayed with the brightest of smiles after setting the padfolio on the table, her hands clapping together excitedly. She looked like a child who had just met Santa Claus for the first time.

L O L she thinks we’re together.

At that I actually laughed out loud before informing, “We’re colleagues. In town for a conference.”

The horror on the girl's face said it all.

“Oh! My mistake, sorry. I can split the bill for you.” She reached for the pad where it sat in front of Ethan.

He grabbed the black leather at the same time I spoke;

"Nope, dinner’s on him.” I cupped a hand over my mouth and pointed a not-at-all discreet thumb towards him, “He'll get reimbursed," I laughed more to myself than anything.

She smiles, a little relieved by my warmth, then turns to look at Ethan - silently asking permission or if it’s okay that he pays. Generally looking for some sort of direction from the old man.

He shoots the server a look. Then forks over his credit card.

As she saunters off, I smile at him sweetly, “Thank you.”

Of course he rolls his eyes. But that rise in the corners of his mouth says so much more.

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A/N: sorry it’s shit. thank you for sticking with this series 💕 we’ve just got one chapter left!

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misc-headcanons · 3 years

Note

Yoo have you seen that video where a tortoise is dancing to Blinding lights? I feel like that's basically Spinner n his s/o. Like he's holding a broom to their back while his S/O is like

hshdjcofpcplvl

#silliness #bnha #spinner #shuichi iguchi #ask

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years

Text

The Last Night Part X

(Author’s Notes at the End)

But if you’re just joining us, here are the other parts:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

PART X

The iron gates to the Institute rumbled open as James took the corner off the street nearly destroying the trumpet on one of the angel statues that had already been replaced several times in the seventeen years that James has lived there. Xanthos dripped sweat as he came to an abrupt stop outside the front steps to the institute door, just behind Matthew’s automobile that still had all of the doors left wide open.

James jumped down from the driver’s seat and skid on the loose gravel as he grabbed the coach door and yanked it open.

Lucie grimaced when the sun illuminated the inside of the dark cab. Her eyes were red and swollen, her hands covered in something too dark to be blood. His stele gripped in her hand as James grabbed Cordelia underneath the arms and positioned her in a way that he could easily lift her off of the cab seat.

With her head tucked beneath his chin, he could faintly feel her breath against his throat. He tightened his grip on her, offering her some of his own strength, or at least the comfort of knowing that she was safe now and help was coming.

The doors to the Institute opened as he climbed the marble steps. He was met with the worried expressions of both of his parents.

“James.” Will whispered as he reached out towards Cordelia. “What happened?”

“Where is Lucie?” Tessa asked, her eyes drifting over his shoulder.

“She’s in the carriage,” said James, as he adjusted Cordelia in his arms. “Are the Silent Brothers still here? She needs to see them urgently. There is no time.”

“Up the stairs,” said Will, leading James towards the curved staircase that led to the second level. “They arrived sometime this morning, but no one knows who summoned them. Jem said that a message arrived for them to come to the London Institute urgently and that there had been an attack. About half an hour after they arrived Alastair was brought in and they warned us that Lucie and Cordelia were still missing and that Belial might have something to do with it. James, please tell me that you can explain some of this?”

Will quickly followed after James up the staircase while while Tessa ran to assist Lucie behind them. Will barked orders at the house servants to tend to the horse outside while James took the stairs two at a time careful not to jostle Cordelia, but by the small whimpers she made he knew that it was inevitable.

They took a corner and climbed another small flight of stairs that deposited them into a hallway that was crowded with people. The closest to them was Christopher, standing with his back to James and in front of a crumpled Thomas on the floor. Anna sat on the floor beside him with an arm around his shoulder. Matthew, who has been leaning beside the Infirmary door, pushed off from the wall and ran to meet James. He cursed at the sight of Cordelia and quickly moved out of the way while Christopher ran forward to open the infirmary door for James to rush through.

Three silent brothers were gathered around Alastair’s head. James could hear their whispering in his mind, but couldn’t make out the words they were speaking, when a familiar voice cut away from them.

“James.”

“Uncle Jem,” said James as he came to stop in the center of the room. “Please, you have to do something quickly. I don’t think she’s breathing.”

“Lay her down here,” said Jem as he motioned for a bed opposite Alastair’s. Three more Silent Brother’s emerged and began to swarm around Cordelia as James carefully placed her on top of the white sheets. Her skin had become impossibly ashen; her lips tinted blue; she looked like the shell of the person that he used to know.

James kneeled on the bed beside her. His hand gripped hers and squeezed, but her own remained limp inside of his own. Not even a flex from one of her perfect fingers.

Inside of his head he resumed his quiet pleas for her to live. To breathe. To fight.

Beside him, Will put a hand on James’ shoulder. “Follow me. We should let the Silent Brothers do their work.”

“I want to stay with her,” said James. “Please, someone should be with her.”

“I will not leave her,” said Jem, inside James’ mind. “You should listen to your father. It is best if we can perform our work without interruption. If anything is to happen, I will let you know first.”

If anything is to happen.

If she were to die, he means. If she doesn’t respond to their treatments. If James was once again too late. He hesitated to release Cordelia as tears trickled down his cheeks. He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her temple. She smelt of ashes and dust with only a hint of the warm floral scent that used to come from her.

Behind his closed eyes he could see Cordelia inside the Hell Ruelle, dancing under the red tinted lights, flecks of gold glistened on her skin and in her hair, and her cheeks fluffed with excitement and life. He could see her walking with Lucie in the park, her hair falling out of the tortoise shell clip that attempted to secure her delicate curls. He could see her eyes dancing when she called him the leader of the Merry Thieves. He didn’t notice it then, because of his own blindness or because of the bracelet, but her belief in him burned like a witchlight in perfect darkness.

The thought of never seeing her like that again made it difficult for him to breathe.

Will led him out of the infirmary and back into the hallway where the rest of his friends were waiting. But once out in the hallway, James broke away from them without a word, his eyes on the dried blood that covered his hands, when he nearly collided with Grace Blackthorn. The usual surge of emotion that once blinded him to everything else except her was non-existent and replaced by a bitter rage that had him tightening his hands into fists at his sides at the mere sight of her. When she stepped into his path, he paused for only a moment, before he skirted around her and continued stalking towards the stairs.

Grace’s voice followed him. “James, please, I need to speak with you.”

“Not now, Grace.” James threw the words over his shoulder.

Grace moved quickly so she fell into step beside him. “Please, I don’t blame you for not wishing to speak with me and I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t of the utmost importance.”

James’ steps did not falter.

Grace grabbed him by the arm before he could descend the stairs and turned him towards her on the peak of the top step. Her eyes widened with realization. “You removed the bracelet.”

James kept his eyes on the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her out of shame, humiliation, betrayal. He wasn’t sure.

Grace lifted his sleeve exposing his naked wrist.

“I supposed you’ll be wanting it back.” James reached into his pocket and pressed it into her hand.

Grace looked down at it. Her already ghostly complexion had somehow become even more pale. “But—How? That’s not possible.”

James swallowed heavily. Every muscle in his body urged him to turn around and keep walking, but the words formed on his tongue before he could stop them. “I had something real.” The words spit from his mouth like venom. “Someone real. And because of you, and whatever you’d done to that bracelet, I was too blind to see it.”

Grace caught him by the shoulder. “Will you allow me to— James!”

But James broke out from underneath her grip and ran down the stairs with no sense of hope or direction in his mind.

* * *

Lucie’s hands shook with Cordelia’s blood still covering them; caked underneath each of her nails and buried in each cuticle bed and shallow line of her palm. Every rune she drew into Cordelia’s skin glowed for a moment and disappeared no matter how much Lucie willed it to do its work and heal Cordelia just enough that they could make it back to the institute. She couldn’t help but wonder if they had become parabatai sooner if any of this would have happened.

An even sicker thought entered her brain. If Cordelia had never become their friend, the friend of the grandchildren of a prince of hell, then none of this would have happened to her.

Lucie knew she should get out of the carriage and follow after James and Cordelia, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. A sob ripped from her throat and she couldn’t even bury it in her hands. It just filled the empty space around her as James’ stele clattered down from her lap onto the floor of the carriage.

“Lucie!” Tessa stood in the doorway of the carriage. “Darling, are you all right?”

Lucie swallowed another sob that threatened to emerge from her throat and clenched her jaw until she shook. “Yes,” she answered. “I’m not hurt.”

Tessa nodded and extended her hand for Lucie to take. Lucie tightened her grip on the fabric of her gear though, afraid to put one of her hands into her mother’s. She knew her mother had seen her fair share of blood before, but Lucie didn’t want to share the responsibility of Cordelia’s blood with anyone else.

When she emerged from the carriage, Tessa quickly tucked her into her side and hurried towards the institute door while several servants emerged to tend to Xanthos who’d dragged the carriage home with one damaged tire and looked positively tired and exasperated from his travels.

Lucie let Tessa lead her up the stairs, asking a maidservant to warm some water for a bath for Lucie. The maidservant hurried ahead of them to start preparing. Lucie allowed her mother to carry most of her weight as her legs felt like they’d been filled with sand. Her skin itched and crawled. Her chest ached and her throat felt like someone was squeezing it with an iron fist. All of her thoughts raced like a thousand thoroughbred horses sprinting around a track.

When they arrived in Lucie’s bedroom, Tessa helped Lucie out of her gear and carefully unpinned her hair and down came handfuls of orange sand sprinkled across the floor.

Tessa quickly brushed the material off of Lucie’s shoulders. Lucie could see the questions spilling through Tessa’s mind, but Tessa only offered her daughter a small smile and led her towards the bathroom.

Once inside the tub, Tessa busied herself with soap and calming incense while Lucie drew her knees up to her chest and allowed her mother to wash the sand from her hair and the blood from her skin, paying particular attention to her hands and arms. The water turned a startling shade of pink by the time Tessa helped Lucie from the bath. It was a strange thing, but Lucie wanted to stay in the water a bit longer, as if somehow Cordelia remained with her that way.

What a terribly grim thought, but Lucie thought it nonetheless.

Once in a fresh cotton frock and nestled under the heavy quilted comforter of her four poster bed with her wet hair pleated by her mother’s gentle fingers, Tessa sat on the bed beside Lucie with her arm over Lucie’s legs.

“Would you like for me to stay with you awhile?” Tessa asked as she brushed a finger down the curve of Lucie’s face. “I don’t mind.”

Lucie turned her water rimmed eyes away from Tessa and looked towards the window where the heavy curtains were drawn.

“It’s all right, darling.” Tessa cupped Lucie’s face in her hand. “It’s all right. You’re safe now. Cordelia is getting help. You did so well, my darling, you did so well.”

“I couldn’t—“ Lucie took a deep breath as the tears flowed from her eyes to be caught by her mother’s gentle fingers. “I couldn’t save her.”

“But you did what you could do,” said Tessa. “And you brought her to the help she needs.”

Lucie grimaced. “Oh mother, don’t you see? It’s our fault.” Lucie brought her arm over her eyes. “It’s all our fault. If she dies it will be because of me.”

Tessa straightened the covers over Lucie, a habit she adopted Lucie realized when her mother felt that there was little else she felt she could do. When she spoke again, Lucie could hear the pain in her voice. “No,” said Tessa. “No, this is not your fault. This is not your doing.”

“He took her because of me,” Lucie cried.

Tessa pulled on Lucie’s arm. “You? What did he want with you? I thought it was James he was after.”

Lucie sucked in a breath. She wanted to tell her mother everything. The words were practically sitting on her tongue, the anvil weighing on her chest lifted just a bit. But the thoughts drifted back in: what would they think of her? Their daughter who could raise and command the dead. What would they say? They’d protect her, she was sure of it, but at what cost? If they knew Belial was after her they’d die trying to protect her from him. They’d lock her into an even smaller cage then they condemned James too, because she was a girl, and couldn’t possibly defend herself against a prince of hell.

No, no she could not tell anyone.

The anvil slammed back down.

Lucie let her arm fall back down to her side. “He wanted to get to James through Cordelia and I. It was a dramatic miscalculation on his part, honestly. I’m not sure where he is getting his information from but his sources are sorely lacking in accurate information.”

Tessa’s eyes narrowed just slightly causing Lucie to hold her breath, but her expression relaxed. “What did he say to you? What is it that he wants?”

“World domination,” Lucie shrugged.

Tessa made a small noise. “It seems a strange thing to want, doesn’t it? Complete control over an entire world. I have enough difficulty being responsible for three people’s lives, I cannot imagine being responsible for an entire civilization.”

“I don’t think it's the responsibility he wants,” said Lucie. “It’s about possession. It’s control. He’s powerful, but he has limitations. He’s not human and what did Lucifer envy most of all?”

“Humans.” Tessa nodded. “God’s most perfect creation.”

Lucie reached out and took her mother’s hand. “We’ll not let him. I think he’s trapped wherever he is. He can’t reach us on his own and that buys us some time. We can come up with a way to kill him—“

“No.” Tessa’s voice grew stern. “No, I do not want you involved in this any longer. None of you. You’ll let your father and I worry about this. This is our fight, not your own.”

“Mum,” Lucie attempted to argue, but before she could Tessa released her hand and stood up. “You’re to keep yourself away from this, do you understand? I’ll spend no more time on this. Get some rest and come downstairs when you’re feeling up to it.”

Lucie nodded and watched her mother turn to leave. “You’ll come and get me with any word on Cordelia?”

Tessa nodded and urgently left the room.

Sleep and all manor of rest alluded Lucie. She laid in bed staring at the crown molding around the perimeter of her room. Herons were carved into the wood with long vines hanging from their mouths. When decorating her room, her mother and aunt Cecily tried to convince her that the dark wine burgundy wallpaper she had chosen was an awful dark color for such a large space, but it made Lucie feel like Mary Shelley writing in a dungeon about many impossible creatures. She kept her space simple. Hand painted pictures that Cordelia brought her from a trip to India hung on either side of the bed. When she looked at them, she felt like a world traveler, having seen these places herself. Her bed linens were an off-white with golden stitching with no bed ruffle because she liked the dark distressed wood, and it was easier to slide a copy of her manuscript under when one of her parents came into the room to tell her to go to sleep.

She found solace in her room the way James found it in the library, but tonight it brought her no such relief.

Her thoughts raced with images of Cordelia and Belial. His long fingers stretching out towards her flashed whenever she’d close her eyes. She wished she’d figured out a way to kill him when she had the chance. When he was standing right in front of her. Now, she’d have to wait.

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

Lucie sat up in bed to find Jesse standing at the end of it, a translucent shadow with the glow of the fireplace glowing through him and behind him.

Lucie exhaled heavily and clutched her chest. “You must stop doing that.”

“My apologies,” said Jesse, a smirk lifting at the corner of his mouth. “I thought you could feel my presence.”

Lucie adjusted herself with her back against the headboard. “No, it’s me who should be apologizing, my mind is preoccupied at the moment. I’m afraid I’m not myself. Jesse, I cannot properly thank you for helping me last night. I wasn’t entirely convinced it would work, but it seemed worth a shot. You saved me yet again and at a large expense to yourself.”

Jesse shook his head, but Lucie went on. “You could have been lost in there, in the shadow world. Your soul could have been trapped there forever. And still you did it anyway. I’m afraid that I owe you for a lot more than just my own life.”

“Lucie, you owe me nothing.”

“I do,” insisted Lucie. “I am going to find a way to bring you back.”

“Necromancy is a dark magic,” said Jesse. “One that is not easily forgiven by the Clave. It’s too dangerous. I came here to tell you to stop.”

“To stop—“

“Yes,” Jesse said firmly. “I blame myself for all of this. I let you entertain the idea of bringing me back, because I liked the idea myself, and I like you. But I realize now that I’m only a danger to you the closer we become and I cannot allow something to happen to you.”

“Jesse—“

Jesse took a step backwards. “Your attention should be on stopping Belial, on being a Shadowhunter, and a writer, not on something that has proved to be impossible. Please, Lucie, I need for you to understand.”

“Well, I don’t,” said Lucie. “I don’t understand at all. I won’t stop trying, and frankly, I think you’re being incredibly indecent at the moment. I may have lost my friend tonight, I will not lose you too!”

“Cordelia's life is flickering,” said Jesse. “It’s weak, but it’s still there. She’ll need your attention when she wakes up. Please know how sorry I am, but this is absolutely for the best.”

“Is this because I used you to escape Belial?” Lucie couldn’t stop the tears from spilling from her eyes. “I won’t do it again. I promise. I’ll command some other ghost next time. I’ll be more sensitive, I--.”

“This is why.” Jesse walked around her bed and grabbed her arm, but his hand went right through her like vapor. “I am dead, Lucie. My sister has ruined her life because of me. My mother is on her way to prison. You will not be the next tragedy that befalls because of an attempt to save me when it may well be futile. And while I couldn’t stop them, I can stop you.”

She tried to reach for his hand again, but her fingers went straight through his.

“I am sorry,” said Jesse slowly, she thought she felt the cool wisp of his breath on her cheek. “Life is for living, Lucie, not for the dead. It’s time I find my peace with it.”

“No.” Lucie swung her legs over the side of the bed, but when she stood up, he was already gone.

(If you want some more feels added to the sadness that is this chapter give Light of Love by Florence + The Machine a listen. It inspired most of the conversations in this chapter. It really helped me get into the Herondale mindset. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Don’t hesitate to leave it some love! Next update is coming Sunday 6/14.)

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thesunlounge · 4 years

Text

Reviews 306: Cass. & Gianni Brezzo

I am a touch behind when it comes to covering Growing Bin Record’s 2019 output and throughout December I’ll be playing catch-up by publishing my long gestating reviews of Bartosz Kruczyński’s Baltic Beat II and Eleventeen Eston’s Delta Horizon (as well as taking a look at what’s been going on over at Glowing Pin). But in the meantime, I’d like to put down some reflections on one of the newest Growing Bin releases: Masala Kiss by Cass. & Gianni Brezzo. I bought the record without much thought, trusting that Basso, Brezzo, and Cass. would take me to exactly where I needed to be, but even still, I am completely taken aback by the LP’s immersive ambient universes. It’s an album I lose myself completely to while listening and one that I daydream about when not, as almost every moment is stunningly gorgeous and overflowing with emotional creativity. Cass. & Brezzo touch on so many of the sounds I love most, including these spectacular detours into sky-seeking post-rock, and throughout the eleven tracks, we see aquatic arpeggiations swimming through cymbal taps and rainfall; electronic textures imported from the fourth world flowing over hushed breaths and subdued tribal rhythms; e-pianos falling like a soft tropical storm and pads sighing like the wind; kosmische sequences percolating amidst industrial sound blasts; drumkits pounding against fuzz guitars, swooning pads, and gaseous idiophonics; chill out breaks vibing beneath synthesized dolphin songs and liquid bass guitar narcotics; and balearic paradises awash in hues of some impossible sunset.

Cass. & Gianni Brezzo - Masala Kiss (Growing Bin Records, 2019) “Jaybo” opens with manic percussion beating through cosmic caverns…a minimalist world drum groove wherein echoing rimshots splatter into sea-spray. Trance inducing vibrato waves hover in the air as acoustic guitars descend onto the mix, working between subdued delay tapestries and bursts of emotional violence, with steel strings buzzing and smearing into fractal webs while kosmische leads melt through they sky. During a moment where the guitars fade, angels sing through deep sea hazes while bubble clouds flutter ear-to-ear and later, the drums wash out as bleary-eyed wavefronts smolder in the background, with single note leads howling and acoustic guitars generating crystalline gas clusters. Then in “Umberella,” e-pianos quiver, morph, and occasionally glitch out, with lush tremolo clouds trailing every chord. Interstellar sequences are bathed in reverberation as they flutter in the distance and voices speak expressive incantations amidst studio clatter. And later, pianos execute a jazzwise climb towards the stars, with the sounds of pounding keystrokes rendered louder than the notes themselves. Electric guitars weave galactic desert mesmerism in “Imence Sense” as synths pool like liquid light…the glowing currents suffused by laser approximations of birdsong, string machines from celestial oceans, and synthetic organs that glow like the sun. Dopamine guitar arps float, bass notes disperse like clouds of smoke, and hammer on leads scrape and squiggle as anthemic majesty is subverted into an ambient dream drift, one that pairs nicely with Gigi Masin’s & Jonny Nash’s recent Postcards from Nowhere. And sometimes, amidst the fragile space music mutations, streaks of polychrome synthesis break free…like dazzling currents of color seen just below the surface of some infinite ocean.

Arps flowing from the fourth world oscillate through dreamspace echoes in “Instabubu” while e-pianos evoke melting gemstones. Cymbals phase and chime strands sparkle like oceanic crystal while bulbous bass pads swell the heart. And later, cinematic melodic ascents smear into feedback synthesis and wailing strings generating tropical mirages as the mix continues to sparkle with seaside jazz spirituality. “Autoscooter Lover” follows with tribalist percussion effecting into a panorama of bubble mutations while piano chords lilt back and forth. Fragile synthesis wavers through the sky…these aqueous streaks of mermaid beauty progressively ring modulating into liquid abstraction…and vocal breaths push hot air across the mix as further pad layers scat on reversing jazz currents. Gaseous orchestrations diffuse in before dispersing and after a hushed pause, the mix explodes back to life, now with cymbal taps decaying across the spectrum and swooning melodies of paradise balearica transforming into alien psychedelia. And at some point, the mix reduces to sparse percussion and scraping guitar chords while indie basslines dance high on the fretboard…an enticing moment of daydream nostalgia. “Out of Mind” closes the A-side with layered Berlin school sequencing bouncing through a neon cosmos, with bending fluids and seabird mutations wiggling through the vacuum. Spiritual choirs sing out from the center of the universe, with voices smearing into static as polysynths waver through crystalline clouds. Psychosonic energy blasts whoosh across the spectrum and laser lights mutate into insect screams as black hole radiation bathes the spirit…all while the prog electronic sequences filter, flange, and phase into indistinction, moving from cosmic hypnosis to splattered sequential psychosis.

The extended intro of “Koli” portends some moment of cathartic power, with synth hazes swelling, e-bowed guitars refracting spectral light, and noa bells ringing in a gentle breeze. And eventually, a massive post-rock drum beat drops, with cymbals, snare, and backwards sucking kicks decaying into a void of heartache and kissed by a touch of slapback. The guitars wail into emotional bluescapes of whalesong psychedelia and golden waves of orchestral warmth evolve into a synthesized blur…all while arpeggiations flutter far in the distance. Then in “Helge,” sea vents spew out strange bubble formations and synthesizers ascend through anthem rave riffs while IDM cymbals crawl across the mix like some crazed insect. Slap bass robotics and pastoral guitars solo into jazz ethereality and the rhythms eventually filter into whispering shadows, with everything fading to nothingness as a demonic voice speaks unknowable incantations. Then comes “Der Däne,” wherein lounge jazz guitar chords bend like liquid over ultra-chill trip hop rhythmics, with electro-kicks vibing out and infectious clap patterns cracking on the soulful bounce. The background is woven through by psychedelic noise hazes and dolphin-generated sonar tracers as glacial streaks of orchestral majesty hover just out of reach. The drums pull away for a momentary breath and when they rush back in, they are joined by bass guitar threads recalling Douglas McCombs, with spindly slides and emotive hammer-ons moving through soft jazzfunk sensuality. And as the rhythms progressively filter and crunch, my mind drifts further towards Tortoise, as well as towards Mogwai…just pure post-rock perfection…though growing ever more balearic, with new age ocean atmospherics flowing into the stereo field and stoking visages of some gorgeous sunset panorama.

The first part of “Interlude” is alive with shouting street vendors, feet running on cobblestones, and secrets spoken in earnest as seagulls fly through the sky. Then, drone clouds wash the mix clean, bringing with them bursts of industrial static and swirls of spectral distortion run through by detuning orchestrations. A bell-tower rings in the distance, feedback lasers transmute into blinding fire, and towards the end, piano arps flutter on a seaside breeze, with everything smearing out beneath layers of insectoid noise. Whereas “Der Däne” celebrated the post-rock soundscapes of the mid-90s, closer “Paterson” revels in that style’s early 2000s rebirth, with mathy guitars singing together…their multitudinous layers bathed in cavernous verbs, dreamspace delays, and recalling for me Explosions in the Sky, especially their work on Friday Night Lights. Then it all breaks down, with cold guitars radiating through interstellar expanses and electronic beats dancing through hyperspace corridors while energy waves crash against the mix. Eventually, the swooning guitar majesties return and break free from the murk…singing towards a rural sunrise as the heart soars higher and higher. Rhythms of jazz electronica underly the layers of melodic majesty, with shuffling cymbals guiding the body through immersive e-bow environments. And entire orchestras of the sky are evoked by a few guitars and a bank of fx as synthesized fusion leads solo in support, bringing LSD visions of an exploding sunrise. Nearing the end, the mix devolves yet again, with decaying orchestrations surrounding strange synthetic arps. But rather than end here, a lone guitar ascends once more through the detritus and traces out further melodies of paradise magic before eventually fading away, leaving us afloat within avant-garde sonic environments recalling “Interlude.”

(images from my personal copy)

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castawxayaway · 7 years

Text

haze

thanks to the anon who requested fluff, you ask and I deliver.

enjoy!

oh and I posted yesterday that after sunday I won’t be writing til July due to exams coming up very soon and lots of deadlines. so if you have a request please ask now rather than wait etc :)

Life often throws challenges at you, some come in the form of accidents, money, relationships etc. But for me, mine came in the form of my flatmate skipping out on me leaving just about enough rent for the next two months and a letter or to be more accurate a note- 'off with Jamie to New Zealand, hope this'll do, nice knowing ya x'

That was it. After just under two years of being room mates, sure we weren't that close but I thought we had a substantial room mate vibe going on. Jamie's not a bad guy, she could do a lot worse. On the plus side I won't have to listen to them going at it like wired rabbits at 1-3 nearly every morning.

Unsure what to do I collapse down on the sofa and ring the one person who knows what to do in any form of situation: my trusted mum. After half an hour of comments on how she never liked my ex roommate and how I could do better than her (which felt as if I had told her I’d gone through a breakup) I was well advised to put an advert up. The following afternoon having only been awake half an hour, since I had the luxury of not being disturbed all night I embraced the quiet, rather than moans I sat down in front of my laptop and began to write my advert.

Roughly four hours later I received multiple responses, most of which were men asking to film ‘entertainment’ videos online- to which I gladly declined. I continued to search through the responses for a while until I finally found one who actually filled the form out in full, giving serious answers. Smiling at the sight of the description I immediately typed out a reply, asking to meet them tomorrow. Once I had sent it I relaxed into the sofa, only to glance around and see how much of a pigsty the place had become.

The next day the flat was spotless, I had sprayed far too much febreze to maintain consciousness but it didn’t matter, first impressions were what mattered the most. A light knock motioned that he was here, the time to put the face to the description and name. Opening the door I had a prepared smile, but as I saw him it faltered. How can a man have all of these qualities, and handsome? Somehow he managed it, effortlessly.

Tortoise rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose, distorting those bright blue eyes, the colour I’d think back to as summer growing up with a touch of the unknown. He lowered his head as he pulled out a scrap of paper, muttering my name in a question. We both remained quiet as I welcomed him in, his eyes observing the open space through the doorway separating two ways to the bedrooms and bathroom.

We sat down, opposite each other separated by my glass table, neatly organised piles of books and marble coasters. The continuous silence between us was unnerving and being the one in charge I spoke up, asking a series of questions to which he answered honestly and with a good sense of humour. It was going well, until I could hear my Mum’s most requested question blurt out of my mouth, “So are you in a relationship?” The confused blind look he wore in his eyes at my question, he didn’t respond, instead just remained flustered. “I like knowing in advance so I can purchase noise cancelling headphones.”

His response was what sold it, the reason he now lives in the room opposite mine approximately 56 steps away. He leant forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, “If I ever do, I’ll buy you them myself.”

“Dan?!” Yelling from my room I sit upside down, a pair of heavy feet approach me and I hear an exasperated sigh.

In front of me he knelt down, raising an eyebrow. “Why am I not even surprised.” He joked and joined me, the two of us sitting upside down in silence. “Everything alright?” Turning my head to look at him I chuckled at the sight of his hair hanging down, just brushing the floor like a mop.

“I’m not sure what to do about tonight.” Groaning I sit back up, letting the blood rush away from my head. Within a second Dan sits opposite me, clearly comfortable amongst my assortment of cushions.

Closing his eyes he stayed quiet as the dizziness passed him by. “Well for starters you’re coming out with me and the guys.” He nudged me with a goofy grin, his eyes reflecting joy.

“But I’m so tired, I didn’t get in until 4 last night.” I exclaim and collapse down into my soft pillows.

Lying there staring at the artex I feel a change in weight, Dan lies next to me and pokes my nose. “It’ll be a few hours, some drinks.” He tries to convince me. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen.”

If I knew what would go down, I’m not entirely sure if I’d thank him for convincing me or punch him or making me join him. Probably both.

“Fine I’ll go.” He punches the air in success and rolls off of the bed, nearing the door. “But just a few drinks, okay?” I yell as he hovers in the doorway, waving me off and leaving me to get ready.

Walking down to the bar the faint sound of music brought back fond memories. The first time all of our friends met, all of us bonding and getting drunk together. I remember vaguely stroking Kyles beard and wanting to plait it, unfortunately that never happened. “Like old times, isn’t it?” I speak up as I wrap my arms around his, resting my head on his shoulder as we walk.

“Yeah, it is isn’t it?” He glances down to me and smiles, the same smile he wore when I first met him. The same smile he gives me whenever I wake up and wander into the main space, stagger towards the kitchen.

As the two of us walk inside immediately we hear cheers, turning to our left Kyle stands on a table in a half empty bar clearly pissed before we had a chance to join. “If it isn’t the love birds.” He slurs his words as Woody tries to force him down with little luck.

Will walks over to us, offering to buy a round which we gladly accept, I mean it’s just one drink right? Wrong, it was several.

Unable to stand without support me and Kyle continued to laugh at the most stupid things, Dan was in a different booth as he was in a marginally better state than I was. “So you know, like you two.” He raised his eyebrows to me to which I just stared at.

Taking a swig of my drink I shook it off, “You know we’re just friends, always have been.” I flap my hands about in front of his face. “He is not my lobster.” Doing the same action as best as I can that Phoebe did he just chuckles, lowering my hands on my behalf.

“But you two are like a couple without admitting or having sex. You’re the emotional stuff without the active stuff.” I shook my head as he tried to convince me otherwise. Looking over to Dan he was facing me, that smile on his face amongst the two day stubble which I secretly prefered.

As he turned away and his attention went back to a friend the smile disappeared, “Ah.” Kyle muttered in my ear. “Now you see the smile?” Chuckling I began to gather my senses, “And the penny drops?”

“Has he always done that?” I exclaim louder than intended and he nods in response. “Right then.” Flipping my hair out of my face I go to stand up and walk over, but as I go to stand a sudden realisation hits me as I’m land on my ass. I haven’t stood up in an hour and drank too much.

As I sat staring up Kyle remained in full laughter whilst I saw a pair of beaten up converse in front of me. “Come on you.” He muttered helping me up.

Resting my hands on his shoulders his relaxed at my waist. As I stared at him I could see how blue his eyes were under the off lights, how they quickly moved analysing mine. “Are we going home now?” I yawn loudly.

“I think that’s wise.” He laughs lightly and helps me out. Waving back to Kyle he just points at us, then does the lobster making me smile.

Walking home the bitter air bites at my exposed skin, shivering I can feel the effects of the booze wear off slightly. The two of us walk in silence as Dan keeps his arm around my waist, hugging me close even though it isn’t necessary.

Reaching our front door he fiddles with the keys and the door creaks, swinging open. As I stumble in after him I silently dance around, kicking my shoes off and releasing the few clips holding my hair up. Dan watches with a smile on his face as I dance along to the echos of my giggles, holding a hand out I nod whilst he shakes his head. “I’m not taking no for an answer tonight, Smith.” Reaching out I grab his hand but he pulls me close to him.

The mood instantly changes. I can hear a soft piano playing as I bore into his eyes, the rippling innocence amongst the care. “I’d be lost without you.” He mutters as I blink, then rest my head in the crook of his neck. The faint smell of the aftershave I got him as a Christmas present as his stubble scratches my jawline.

“I’d be homeless. Or worse, living with my parents again.” I joke resulting in a light laugh to sound, his shoulders rising and falling gently.

Lifting my head up my eyes lock with his, the two of us pause. The piano begins to fade, the faint melody rising. Glancing between his eyes and lips neither of us stop, my lips meet his as if it were meant to be.

Groaning I struggle to open my eyes or move, as I try to lift my arm I can feel something stopping it, preventing me from moving. That’s it, game over I thought to myself as I try and recall the events of last night. Everything is too hazy, I remember falling on my arse and sitting with Kyle; besides that, nothing.

Taking my time I allow my eyes to adjust to the early morning light and gentle breeze scoping through the window. Looking down I can feel my eyes going wide, an arm. An arm which I see everyday, bare. My heart begins to beat faster as I try and remain calm, failing to do so. Turning as gently as I can spooning me is Dan.

Unsure how to comprehend I lift the covers up, we are clothed thank god. Sighing in relief I can feel how tight he is hugging me, even when he is fast asleep. I take the time to focus on his sleepy face, how everything relaxes including his smile. A slight frown developing. His forehead remains hidden due to his hair hanging down in strands, unable to stop myself I lift them up, brushing them back.

His eyes flutter open and I freeze. In seconds I fathom every outcome possible, ranging from him storming out to regretting whatever happened. He wraps his arms around me, a sleepy grin evident. “Mornin’” He mutters as a yawn escapes his lips.

“Dan, what happened last night.” I quietly ask as I relax in his arms, inches away from his face.

Eyes scanning mine his face drops, “You don’t remember do you?” His arms retract, leaving me feeling cold.

“Did I make a fool of myself or something?” Concern laces my words yet he shakes his head. “We, did we do anything.” Stumbling over my thoughts and processing them his eyes flash at mine before returning to focus on the grey fabric.

“We kissed. Then I helped you get into bed. About half an hour later you kept calling me, demanding I keep you company til you fall asleep.” He stated with little emotion and continued to avoid my gaze.

Blinking I could hear myself, feel myself stumble in here. I vaguely recall dancing to nothing, his gentle lips on mine and then it becoming more heated, the passion rising. “We kissed.” I stated, a smile forming.

“Do, do you, regret it?” He murmurs, fiddling with the sheets to distract himself.

Moving closer into his arms I lift his chin up, “Not a single bit.” Kissing him lightly warmth radiates through me. Pulling away he half smiles, too tired to put too much effort into it. “Well maybe getting drunk, I feel like crap.” I mutter and curl back up into his arms, wondering if I’ll ever wake up from this dream.

#not sure about the ending #but I did like it #good ol fluffy pieces #fluff #bastille #dan smith #dan smith imagines #dan smith imagine #dan smith fluff #bastille imagines #imagines #imagine #preference #preferences #bastille imagine #writing

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lunarfae714 · 7 years

Text

more poems, a few seasons past

how lucky to have breath

stop & ask why we live

question our structures

question human history & wor ship

find out we know nothing.

just be.

an open container

for Spirit.

***

twenty Worn tetherballs

off-the-chain

in the plain view of

concrete charade

people in heavy metal boxes

on wheels shrugging off

piss-stained balls

in unmarked yards

i wonder if you

saw the roads,

high ways

concrete carplays

in the colors of the mental play

of each driver

would they be

colorful, or still grey?

grateful or stray?

what strain of gasoline

fuels the minds

of mindless drivers

what excites us

while our earth decays

who makes our day

when the culture is so far away

from deep roots,

holding neighbors' hands

taboo

what can we plant

& grow too?

return to our mother

to our tribe.

together,

without divide.

possession at the rainbow gathering.

sacred fire

not so sacred afterfall

as the village dissects the chip

from the backside of her ear

she stops talking to rosemary-

who haunts her waking,

green eyes that travel

like a bouncy ball,

lost

muttering

paranoid

in a void.

***

let these hands transform

to portals to open doors

from playing the piano of dirt,

sparking fruitful dance of the earth

Gaia feeds us when we feed her

when we pour out love, it comes back in

we let another cosmic spiral begin~

to serve our creations of the now~

for our hearts, our ears, our old souls

in strange flresh want to be stirred, not shut down

conduct our hands & our throats

as intruments of Light, sailing the eternal boat

help us let go of illusions of fear,

discomfort, darkness we know

help us let Go

the light comes in nothingness

it comes in silence

our shared dream

our family

our energy

recycled & renewed

cleansed with intention

our energy reflects

infinity.

***

pictures for what

at the sevensacredpools

high rockpiles

tourists drenched in neon

not stopping to be

but to get a photograph.

as the water that freefalls

with the wind, the breath

of the Sea & i came

by foot, naked under a raincoat

to watch the sky sitcom,

color show,

highfive cows

on the silent jungle road.

the sole palm on the mountain

anal, how we can be selfish

not giving all we can like the

monkeypods give the wind,

the rain gives the stream,

we plant the seeds for our earth

or ourselves

what is really greater

its

obvious

and yet

we destroy it

but the pictures are pretty

what moment is worth capturing

when memory distracts us

from growth?

glorify the photo

the still

eternal film

identity

how can we be fre

from our memory?

***

newyearseve at the potfarm

when we broke the wood splitter

after sunsets

cum & dirty animals

on the trail

fingering a carcass

shoegaze & bodyshots

on couches that aren't ours.

& the girl on the phone

asks what i'm doing with

my poetry degere

***

when i am blind

i can really see

how the sun reflects the rocks on the shore

a million suns line the sea

& mother moon takes up half the sky

the light is grand when i can see.

***

plate lunch

found bliss in darkness

you are the white light in my dream

when our chests align

divine

runs through our body line

celestial

nightlightning strike on

these cages of flesh

these brains

of judgment &

fear, weight

evaporate

with the light

angel

when i am only

white light

charged

full-body-bliss

the game creatures of the system

fully charged

to give the white light to

next emotional vagabond

the sleeping dream is

the waking dream

and we are the fingers to turn the switch

kitttens in the palm of my hand

detachment meditation

the ever-moving train within

we become the beauty

of earths afternoon rainsong

bamboo creaks of delight

aesthetic throatsing

sweet simplicity of hot water

and ginger.

the bowl sings

when the wind moves

over our head.

remove the mask

and truly see everything.

***

12.29.16

above the monkeypods,

touched by south-blown aire,

the breath of old-man Saturn

we wait among

nebulas of cyberlit selfiesticks-

modern self-sacrifice--

wait for the moon to rise--

to wait

a lost practice

in the fast-paced

outer-space

instant-gratified

culture without gratitude.

wait

on layers & layers

of sacred stone.

present-

with the knowledge

inside these bodies

we were once the hands

that carried the stone,

the bled freely,

that knew the reflections

of the planetary drama:

the sky-show on Earth

the sacred Nature

& geometry of it all-

even the rocks wait with us

in our collective breath

in this cloud of illusion

brought by the family

of dragonflies.

1.25.15

the darkness inbetween

flashes of consciousness

like drowning air

the hidden woodpecker

or the muted tree

the distant shotgun

melody, off-key

or how the cobweb tangoes

from the liquid gold

coasulates 5pm power of afternoon sun

a never quiet forest

forever beckoning yet

i forgot the magic

down the tree talk

leave the thumbprint acrons

speared dry pine tears

the worms and the thorns

the rhythmic bubbles

of breath like the hotsprings

fairywands

synsthesia woodspell

mesmerizing & dulled

with my blank stare in the pan

my body that will tremble no more

to reel in the

brother & sister shepherd

until the bites swell

my skin once again.

i take a baby pinecone

& wait to exhale.

2.6.15

neruda aftertastes of lovepoems

i come in your nothingness

like a passing rainffall

thoughts lost before

the sun's descent

i come in your mayan silence

like a bite of garden candy

in the middle of a fast

you come to me in dreams--

even in dreams, you lift me

with wonder, divine light

two nude chests perfectly align

sorrows dissipate like dew

the other eve, you were the water

of my illusion. you sobbed

shoulders hunched & heaving

for you, for me, for

the static of our living movie.

why did i leave neverland

for another open hand?

i will be the Bliss you bring me.

a late february migration

not spending a dmie

bicycles where the cars pass

down the volcano,

in a musty trailer with bellyaches

distracted from the new colors

of flora

i still feel it-

in the folks who lift us up

in the backs of their trucks

in the washed-up tortoise

& freefalling passionfruit,

mellow music & polynesian words

like medicine of

slow-moving people

on a slow-moving island.

1.31

cream-colored fairies before noon

wave after wave, stretched & bird-like

transforming into waterfowl

flowed with breasts & freckles,

whiskey shadow gods explain

narratives of the dead kings

and holy mothers from Spain,

irrelevancies?

december sweat

underbelly portal

left open too long

can the body forget to breathe?

can the chicken be born again

to walk out of your potroast?

the belly rolls of dead madron

the rolls in the way

between a clear mind

and the state of distraction

don't linger on loves lost,

the lack of drive

december sweat

from my armpits

to the hole under the madron

to water the earth

as i burrow my bones.

***

santa cruz

twenty-two days to reach enlightenemnet

crowded redwood trails

this morning made our

separation a scene

to be by the sea

the water that mirrors the wild in me

light colors here hide the darkness

the oversized pastel homes

the white skin that reigns

worriless over white sand

when you cook close

sun reflects the glass, for grains, charcoal bark

whiteness

in the dark solitude of the mountain

i went a little mad.

winter solstice

black panther spirit in an abandoned field

when we slept in the church van

Bast, or an old Indian

reminding us of the white man torture.

with my spirit guide beside

desert trips where there used to be forest

california is dead.

christmas tamales inspired by the border

my season of depression.

my dance teacher once told me

making the bed each day just makes the whole house look nice

instructing the direction of my hips.

music is in every moment

music already abundnat

frequencies & fractals

geometry of movement

death is stealing new cycles

the animals of our bed

change with the temperature of our tears

the cycle of our mothers

we communicate here

travel through the galaxies

warm tears of sorrow & joy

faces in everything

trees remind you of the people you miss in yourself.

counterclock spirals

in the half-lit cabin

we watch fire like a television,

the sound of fallen wood tongues

we roll the dice in the manifesting mind

read wet eyes of my lover

always surprise me

candelit rest

in the pyramid home.

-fluid static-

lullyabing nightmares

the appetizers we dream in the mid-afternoon

bells of bedridden in our sacred triangle

madron, smoke & mirrors,

high-hung hiding termites and antlers,

a dome to sky pines.

spirits flash in to watch

the dark shadows of grace float ---the creatures.

what are street drugs?

laying on the bench outside the coffeshop,

run by a wealthy church.

overheard conversation

"not much to talk about=not too bad"

they hold their books from the Free Bible room

"have my bed its not weird, its not weird"

so removed in my head on narcos & weeping

in public from the way we treat each other & our pathwhere

i lost it

"it is easy not to look"

suburban sidewalk study

they look at me & look away

i needed a break from the noise

the orchestra of voices

loud women constant concerns &

biology notes & lost boots left

the churchgoers car

nice drums or jazz

monster of control & demand

well dressed church leaders

the church folk always look happier

the safety in identity,

acceptance in anonymity

Which do you prefer?

the anonymity of white privelge

smiles from passing men or children

or the constant attention of a white girl

in central america

smiles from passing men

both kind and undressing

to fade or melt in fake empires?

new mexico first

midnight coyote call & elk herds

push shower & chocolate oatmeal on a campstove

cacti spruce & mesquite

empty roads & desert

adobe & forests

dry heat, redwillow, aspen and mullen.

crescent waxing

in the Sky's midnight cloud paintings

leaving Pueblo into the Rockies

in the valley by river end

sunset moonrise

folk music & free firewood

grandfather faces in a redrock mountain

the most constellations under

the clear sky with lightning storms afar.

befriending bibcycle junkies

outside the donut shop

in the town where i dont belong

sunshine cupo'joe to calm

a long night of meth.

hidden hundreds

in a fake locked book,

jerry garcia

eases the sneeze & aches

roadhead to ease the fights

bald cop with traveling advice

sleeping & sneezing in reststops

free food and kind strangers in memphis

latenight roadsodas

stovestop cooking

cement lots with new friends

arkansas

for naked boatrides,

on a manmade lake

until the elder tells us to come back

the universe always provides to the Lovers

friends, meals to eat, where to rest,

water to bathe, towns that like a little color,

soul music, spoken word and dancing hips.

america

self-titled pais of

corporate stores of things that no one needs

restaurants with deadly ingredients

people stay in their boxes

drive in their cars

cops lurking hyjenas to cuff

those whose feet

graze, tease the edge of the boxes

the white-dotted lines

so the animals can return to boxes,

jailcells

and the president

in his great white box

declares war and shows us

to spend money we dont have

perpetual enslavement

taxes to start another

generation of animals.

train emergencies

when they can really know

the nature of themselves

in disappearing grass.

lumberjack love

rainbow

palm-planted

midnight

blue-breasted

humminbirds

of foreign lands

stinkbugs & cicadas

orbit my lobes

in red kitchens

while houseflies

frolick on treasure island

and our bubblegum mattress on wheels-

the birds of paradise

cocoooned

to the insects of now.

my lover

who moves & speaks through the sea & moonlight

has human hands again.

1 note · View note

flique-dae · 7 years

Quote

"Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos; Sedjuvat, hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis. (Martial, Epigrams 12.84) What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things, I sing—This verse to Caryl, Muse! is due: This, ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view: Slight is the subject, but not so the praise, If she inspire, and he approve my lays. Say what strange motive, Goddess! could compel A well-bred lord t' assault a gentle belle? O say what stranger cause, yet unexplor'd, Could make a gentle belle reject a lord? In tasks so bold, can little men engage, And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty rage? Sol thro' white curtains shot a tim'rous ray, And op'd those eyes that must eclipse the day; Now lap-dogs give themselves the rousing shake, And sleepless lovers, just at twelve, awake: Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knock'd the ground, And the press'd watch return'd a silver sound. Belinda still her downy pillow press'd, Her guardian sylph prolong'd the balmy rest: 'Twas he had summon'd to her silent bed The morning dream that hover'd o'er her head; A youth more glitt'ring than a birthnight beau, (That ev'n in slumber caus'd her cheek to glow) Seem'd to her ear his winning lips to lay, And thus in whispers said, or seem'd to say. "Fairest of mortals, thou distinguish'd care Of thousand bright inhabitants of air! If e'er one vision touch'd thy infant thought, Of all the nurse and all the priest have taught, Of airy elves by moonlight shadows seen, The silver token, and the circled green, Or virgins visited by angel pow'rs, With golden crowns and wreaths of heav'nly flow'rs, Hear and believe! thy own importance know, Nor bound thy narrow views to things below. Some secret truths from learned pride conceal'd, To maids alone and children are reveal'd: What tho' no credit doubting wits may give? The fair and innocent shall still believe. Know then, unnumber'd spirits round thee fly, The light militia of the lower sky; These, though unseen, are ever on the wing, Hang o'er the box, and hover round the Ring. Think what an equipage thou hast in air, And view with scorn two pages and a chair. As now your own, our beings were of old, And once inclos'd in woman's beauteous mould; Thence, by a soft transition, we repair From earthly vehicles to these of air. Think not, when woman's transient breath is fled, That all her vanities at once are dead; Succeeding vanities she still regards, And tho' she plays no more, o'erlooks the cards. Her joy in gilded chariots, when alive, And love of ombre, after death survive. For when the fair in all their pride expire, To their first elements their souls retire: The sprites of fiery termagants in flame Mount up, and take a Salamander's name. Soft yielding minds to water glide away, And sip with Nymphs, their elemental tea. The graver prude sinks downward to a Gnome, In search of mischief still on earth to roam. The light coquettes in Sylphs aloft repair, And sport and flutter in the fields of air. Know further yet; whoever fair and chaste Rejects mankind, is by some sylph embrac'd: For spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease Assume what sexes and what shapes they please. What guards the purity of melting maids, In courtly balls, and midnight masquerades, Safe from the treach'rous friend, the daring spark, The glance by day, the whisper in the dark, When kind occasion prompts their warm desires, When music softens, and when dancing fires? 'Tis but their sylph, the wise celestials know, Though honour is the word with men below. Some nymphs there are, too conscious of their face, For life predestin'd to the gnomes' embrace. These swell their prospects and exalt their pride, When offers are disdain'd, and love denied: Then gay ideas crowd the vacant brain, While peers, and dukes, and all their sweeping train, And garters, stars, and coronets appear, And in soft sounds 'Your Grace' salutes their ear. 'Tis these that early taint the female soul, Instruct the eyes of young coquettes to roll, Teach infant cheeks a bidden blush to know, And little hearts to flutter at a beau. Oft, when the world imagine women stray, The Sylphs through mystic mazes guide their way, Thro' all the giddy circle they pursue, And old impertinence expel by new. What tender maid but must a victim fall To one man's treat, but for another's ball? When Florio speaks, what virgin could withstand, If gentle Damon did not squeeze her hand? With varying vanities, from ev'ry part, They shift the moving toyshop of their heart; Where wigs with wigs, with sword-knots sword-knots strive, Beaux banish beaux, and coaches coaches drive. This erring mortals levity may call, Oh blind to truth! the Sylphs contrive it all. Of these am I, who thy protection claim, A watchful sprite, and Ariel is my name. Late, as I rang'd the crystal wilds of air, In the clear mirror of thy ruling star I saw, alas! some dread event impend, Ere to the main this morning sun descend, But Heav'n reveals not what, or how, or where: Warn'd by the Sylph, oh pious maid, beware! This to disclose is all thy guardian can. Beware of all, but most beware of man!" He said; when Shock, who thought she slept too long, Leap'd up, and wak'd his mistress with his tongue. 'Twas then, Belinda, if report say true, Thy eyes first open'd on a billet-doux; Wounds, charms, and ardors were no sooner read, But all the vision vanish'd from thy head. And now, unveil'd, the toilet stands display'd, Each silver vase in mystic order laid. First, rob'd in white, the nymph intent adores With head uncover'd, the cosmetic pow'rs. A heav'nly image in the glass appears, To that she bends, to that her eyes she rears; Th' inferior priestess, at her altar's side, Trembling, begins the sacred rites of pride. Unnumber'd treasures ope at once, and here The various off'rings of the world appear; From each she nicely culls with curious toil, And decks the goddess with the glitt'ring spoil. This casket India's glowing gems unlocks, And all Arabia breathes from yonder box. The tortoise here and elephant unite, Transform'd to combs, the speckled and the white. Here files of pins extend their shining rows, Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux. Now awful beauty puts on all its arms; The fair each moment rises in her charms, Repairs her smiles, awakens ev'ry grace, And calls forth all the wonders of her face; Sees by degrees a purer blush arise, And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes. The busy Sylphs surround their darling care; These set the head, and those divide the hair, Some fold the sleeve, whilst others plait the gown; And Betty's prais'd for labours not her own."

The Rape of the Lock: Canto 1 BY ALEXANDER POPE

#bodycolours

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trendingnewsb · 7 years

Text

Ipoh: A cultural and culinary guide to Malaysia’s rising tourism star

(CNN)Sometime after the tin slump of the 1980s, Ipoh earned a reputation for being a retirement destination, or just a pit stop on the way to Penang.

“Before, there wasn’t one place where people gathered,” says Julie Song of Burps & Giggles, a cafe that’s contributed to the city’s new face.

“Now, everyone who comes makes Old Town their first stop.”

But the capital of Malaysia’s Perak state has always possessed the qualities that make places like Penang so compelling to travelers: a rich architectural, cultural and culinary heritage — but without the crowds. (Though weekends are a different story.)

And that’s not all. Surrounded by Paleozoic limestone hulks, Ipoh is also a gateway to the area’s beautiful caves and hot springs.

Here are some suggestions on things to do in Ipoh, as well as some dining and hotel recommendations.

TO SEE

Kong Heng Square

A few years ago, landscape architect Ng Seksan and his friends took over this block, breathing new life into Old Town.

“We wanted to keep the old tenants, such as the Kong Heng kopitiam and the Indian barber,” Ng says.

Today, these establishments exist alongside chic cafes, boutique hotels and fashion and craft stalls.

“It’s the greenest urban block in Ipoh,” says Law Siak Hong of the Perak Heritage Society.

Trees are left to grow over and inside buildings, creepers tumble over rooftops and flaking walls.

Yasmin at Kong Heng Museum (open weekends only) showcases the films of the late Malaysian director Yasmin Ahmad, known for her moving explorations of race.

Flanked by a colorful crew of restaurants and shops, “Concubine Lane” is so nicknamed because the late tin tycoon Yau Tet Shin reportedly kept his second wife here.

A living architectural museum

Many buildings from the colonial era, spanning a range of styles from the Gothic to the Modern, still stand.

Among the most visible are the century-old Railway Station, designed in the British Raj style, and the stately old Town Hall across the road.

For quaint shophouses, just walk around Old Town.

Highlights include the Sinhalese Bar, founded in 1931, with its cowboy-style swing doors. It’s a great place to enjoy a beer before carrying on.

There are murals by Ernest Zacharevic — the Lithuanian artist often credited with making street art trendy in Malaysian cities — and local artists like Eric Lai.

Trail maps are available at the local Ipoh tourism office.

“The Vale of Tin and Sin”

Ipoh lies at the heart of Kinta Valley, once the world’s richest tin-producing field.

It attracted a vibrant mix of Malay, Chinese, Indian and European fortune seekers, growing from a river village into one of British Malaya’s richest towns.

To learn about the history of tin and how miners lived when they weren’t working, visitors can book themselves in to visit Han Chin Pet Soo.

The museum was previously home to the Hakka Tin Miners’ Club, founded in 1893, which in its early days was open only to men — a place to socialize, smoke opium and gamble — though exceptions were made for “dancing girls.”

Out around Kinta Valley are former tin-mining towns and other historical attractions to explore.

A guided tour may include Papan, Batu Gajah, Gopeng, the Tanjung Tualang tin dredge and Kellie’s Castle.

K. Rajasegaran (+60 12 524 2357) and V. Kuppusamy (+60 12 508 6429) offer custom tours around Ipoh and Perak.

Law Siak Hong (+60 17 506 1875) of the Perak Heritage Society occasionally leads tours.

Masters of tradition

Tan Khar Mee (Kin Teck, 4 Tingkat Pasar; +60 12 455 3242), 73, has been making lion dance heads for more than four decades.

He also worked on the set of the 1999 film “Anna and the King,” and is open to teaching visitors the craft.

Teh Wing Liang (Zhong Shen Trading, 59 Jalan Bunga Saroja, Pasir Pinji; +60 12 452 3287), 42, has been making lion heads since he was 15 and says his style is more modern.

“I paint each one differently from the next. I make it up as I go along,” he says.

To see how Ipoh’s famous heong peng biscuits are baked — in concrete well-shaped ovens, fueled by coconut husks — it’s best to visit the house at 362 Jalan Gunung Rapat in the morning.

Yao Cai Yu at the Central Market (Jalan Dato’ Onn Jaafar) makes wooden clogs, and Lau Chee Wah (Lau Hooi Kee, 15 Lorong Bijih Timah) makes traditional bamboo blinds.

John Lee of Ipoh Secrets offers custom tours that help break through the language barrier

Up close with limestone hulks

When the Chinese came to Kinta Valley, they built temples in limestone caves.

Perak Tong, dating from the 1920s, has one of the most beautiful interiors, filled with colorful murals of deities. There’s also a hilltop pavilion with city views, though visitors will need to climb more than 400 steps to reach it.

Sam Poh Tong, apparently discovered by a monk in the 1890s, is a little dilapidated, but its gardens have an enchanting, wild quality. It’s got faded terraces, a tortoise pond and a striking red temple out back.

Tambun Cave has prehistoric paintings of men and animals, plus abstract shapes found on its cliff face.

The Gua Tambun Heritage Awareness Project runs tours on the first Saturday of each month.

TO EAT

This list focuses on Ipoh’s specialties rather than the usual Malaysian staples.

For Western food, there’s Kong Heng Square or the string of bars and pubs on Jalan Lau Ek Ching.

Most hawkers open in the early mornings and shut after lunch, or as long as stocks last.

Malaysians tend to have heavy breakfasts, so go early. Some hawkers also take irregular days off.

White coffee and toast

First, a quick run-down of the white coffee varieties.

“Pak kopi” comes with condensed milk and evaporated milk. “Pak kopi C” with evaporated milk and sugar.

“C kosong” with evaporated milk and no sugar. “O” with sugar and no milk. And add “peng” to the end if you want it iced.

The coffee beans are roasted with margarine, without sugar, giving the coffee a lighter color.

For a light breakfast, it’s paired with margarine toast topped with half-boiled eggs.

Sin Yoong Loong (15A Jalan Bandar Timah/Leech St), founded in the 1930s, is among the most popular places to find this local treat.

Chang Jiang (7 Jalan Windsor), a modern cafe that traces its origins to a 1970s kopitiam, serves equally good white coffee.

Nga choy kay

Reputed to be Ipoh’s quintessential dish, nga choy kay means “beansprout chicken”, but usually refers to three dishes — kway teow (flat rice noodles) soup, poached chicken and peppery beansprouts.

You can order for one, but they’ll still be served separately.

Ipoh’s bean sprouts are said to be crunchier and juicier because, it’s believed, the surrounding limestone hills give the water a special quality.

Lou Wong (Jalan Bandar Timah/Leech Street) is most popular with tourists, but the local favorite is arguably Cowan Street Ayam Tauge & Koitiau (44 Jalan Raja Ekram; +60 12 520 3322), which also does delicious braised chicken feet.

It’s reputed to have irregular opening hours, but Thursday to Sunday evenings seem a safe bet.

Kai see hor fun

Kai see hor fun is also a kway teow soup, but the difference is in the prawns. The broth has an orange sheen made by boiling chicken bones with prawn shells.

And everything comes in one bowl — topped with poached chicken slices, prawns, beansprouts and spring onions.

Thean Chun’s version (73 Jalan Bandar Timah/Leech Street) is one of the best.

Restoran Moon De Moon (148 Hala Wah Keong, Simee) — closed on Mondays and Tuesdays — is also touted for its kai see hor fun, as well as curry mee, a spicy noodle dish.

Curry mee

People flock to Xin Quan Fang (174 Jalan Sultan Iskandar) for Ipoh curry mee, which tends to have less milk in it. There’s also a dry curry version.

“My grandfather’s recipe includes Indian spices, like star anise,” says owner Kok Wai Bing.

We recommend ordering the curry mee soup with your noodle of choice, and a mixed bowl of roast and barbecue pork, prawns, chicken and beansprouts.

Don’t forget their special gravy, reportedly a mixture of curry oil, garlic, pork lard and lime.

Hakka mee

Paris Restaurant (164 Jalan Sultan Iskandar/Hugh Low Street) has moved into its third generation of cooks.

It specializes in perfectly springy, flat egg noodles, topped with bean sprouts and minced meat caramelized with soy sauce and fish sauce, with an accompaniment of chilli and garlic-ginger sauce.

It’s also possible to order it with a bowl of soup with meatballs and fishballs.

On weekends, it’s best to arrive well before 11 a.m. They sell out fast.

“Nasi Ganja”

Contrary to the name, there are no suspicious substances in this rice dish. It’s just really good.

The nickname has become inextricably linked to the Nasi Kandar Ayam Merah stall at the Yong Suan kopitiam (2 Jalan Yang Kalsom), founded in the 1950s.

Ask for the usual — biasa — and you’ll get a plate of fluffy steamed rice served with their specialty ayam merah (a red-hued fried chicken), okra, salted egg, cucumber and a generous dollop of chilli and curry sauce.

Sar kok liew

This is a patty of yam bean and fish paste, rolled up in a bean curd sheet, and deep fried.

It’s Ipoh’s signature variation of yong liew — vegetables stuffed with fish or pork paste, which also come boiled.

If you like yours crispy, go to Dai Shu Geok (“Big Tree Foot”, Jalan King, Pasir Pinji) and have it with a bowl of assam laksa.

Otherwise, Ipoh Echo food columnist SeeFoon Chan-Koppen recommends Kwong Hong (684 Jalan Besar Gunung Rapat): “It has many varieties of green vegetables, and the dipping sauce is yummy.”

Yu kong hor with boiled octopus

Tuck Kee (61 Jalan Yau Tet Shin) only opens in the evenings.

Recommended is the wat tan hor — kway teow immersed in a creamy egg gravy, peppered with pork slices, prawns, vegetables and lard fritters — or yu kong hor, the dry version topped with a raw egg and then stirred in.

Either way, it isn’t complete without the boiled octopus doused in garlic oil and soy sauce.

Kaya puff

Sin Eng Heong (4 Jalan Mustapha Al-Bakry) is synonymous with Ipoh’s famous kaya puff — filled with a jam made with coconut milk and egg — and on weekends you’ll see a long line outside the bakery all day.

However, the founder’s son has opened his own shop, Sin Eng Hoe (50 Jalan Yau Tet Shin), nearby and assures that he uses the same recipe.

Tau fu fa

This is a dessert made of soybean curd, usually slurped hot and traditionally sweetened with ginger sugar syrup.

Funny Mountain (49 Jalan Theatre) is the name on everyone’s lips, but Woong Kee (32-38A Jalan Ali Pitchay) is also a firm favorite.

WHERE TO STAY

Banjaran Hotsprings Retreat

This is the place to come for a luxurious communion with nature amid limestone hills — yet it’s just a 15-minute drive from the city.

Each villa has its own plunge pool with water piped in from the hot springs, and there are four communal garden pods.

Non-guests can pay to use the facilities.

They include a pool, a steam and sauna cave, and an air-conditioned cave to relax in. It’s also possible to dine in the cave cellar, which has an extensive wine collection.

A short walking trail leads directly to the Lost World of Tambun theme park.

Banjaran Hotsprings Retreat, 1 Persiaran Lagun Sunway 3, Tambun; +60 5 210 7777

Bedrock Hotel

This new boutique hotel is styled with a mix of contemporary Chinese and Western details.

“We have the best beds and the best rocks,” Debbie Ng says.

The beds are imported, and her family members are ardent rock collectors. Their finds are displayed around the hotel, and even in the rooms.

Each room has a Nespresso coffee machine, with complimentary pods.

Bedrock Hotel, 13 Jalan Che Tak, New Town; +60 5 241 3031

Sekeping Kong Heng

One of Ng Seksan’s Sekeping collection of properties dotted around Malaysia, this hotel creates the illusion of a “retreat” in the middle of all the action.

The main quarter is located above the Kong Heng kopitiam in what was once a hostel patronized by Chinese opera troupes.

Much of the original building remains, mixed with open brick and reclaimed wood, wire fencing for bed bases and concrete sheets for walls — melding the industrial and natural without compromising on style.

There are more rooms in an annexe next door and above the Container Hotel, as well as a pool and a rooftop hangout.

Sekeping Kong Heng, 75 Jalan Bandar Timah (Leech Street), Old Town; +60 12 227 2745

Sarang Paloh

This boutique guesthouse resides within a former Art Deco-style bank building that dates back to the 1930s.

Sarang means nest, and each room is named after a different bird found in Malaysia.

The interiors are mostly furnished in wood and accented with antiques, mixed with modern details and amenities.

All 11 rooms are air-conditioned with en-suite bathrooms.

There’s a common dining area cast in natural light and shadow, and a serene courtyard on the second floor.

Sarang Paloh, 16 Jalan Sultan Iskandar (Hugh Low Street), Old Town; +60 5 241 3926

27 Concubine Lane

This homestay in a restored 1908 shophouse is owned by a Malaysian-British couple.

It retains many original features, with other parts — windows, floorboards, latticework — sourced from a salvage yard.

“It’s not the Hilton. People come here for the heritage,” says John Lomax.

There are three private doubles with air conditioning, and an open loft with six beds. Bathrooms are shared.

Amid the bustle Concubine Lane, it still manages to feel like a little hideaway.

27 Concubine Lane, Old Town; +60 12 221 3202

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ulyssesredux · 7 years

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Nausicaa

And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks.

Edy and Cissy laughed. Must come back because they were to have had a button one. It's so hard to get and that baby was to be in early.

The twins clamoured again for it and Cissy Caffrey and she was not slow to voice his dismay but luckily the gentleman to throw poor Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky who was really as bold as brass there was joy on her cherryripe red lips, a little heart worth its weight in gold.

Her woman's instinct told her once in dead secret and made her say. And the children, so blind. In my mind I would often picture the whole world would she be to him, dance of the tortoise, and that's the soap not paid. Call that innocence? Felt for the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and jaspberry ram and when she wanted him because she was simply in a hurry either. Bag under their tails. Eyes all over them. And now? Belfry up there. How are you at all that offer. Of Loreto, beseeching her to catch them.

Irish Lights board. O, look, there it was and she was on and he saw and then he hastened from the room with a threecornered hat was offering a bunch of love, a five, and she just lifted her skirt at the same on account of being at their boyish gambols or the gentleman off Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey. —What? For Tommy and Jacky ran out and said uncle said his waterworks were out of that other world. Featherbed mountain. Milly together.

Catch em alive, O so lovely in her eyes with silent tears for she felt instinctively that he was still in my eagerness to reach the scene there in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had she only received the benefit of a vessel breaking up on the distant peaks. But then why don't all women menstruate at the idea of Cissy saying an unladylike thing like that because there was something aloof, apart, in the priest's house. It was all no use soothering him with no respect for a quiet life, always waiting to be a man, she had a full view high up above her knee in her gipsylike eyes and his pale intellectual face that met her gaze there in the same time a bat flew forth from the mists beyond the bounds of lovely Cathuria. Who did you learn that from everyone always petting him. Everyone thought the end of a Thousand Wonders, wherein the oceans of the organ. How many have you been doing with yourself?

Why Molly likes opoponax. Source of life, lifebelt round him, her dreamhusband, because she felt that she used to do? Might be the first to. There were wounds that wanted healing with heartbalm.

Gerty would never notice, seven fingers two and a piquant tilt of her and she was sure the gentleman was in front of her heart, his hoarse breathing, because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing out of Dignam's. And Cissy told him too on the track of the rocks in Holles street.

Wonder if it's bad to go home and laugh at themselves. In the gardens of these cities are strange orchids, and their babby home to the Miss White. Colour of brown turf. In the Land of the church, helterskelter, Edy Boardman was with little white hands stretched out, head back, about the time. Something in all those superstitions because when she undid the strap she cried: What's your name? Must wheedle her way along. Felt for the forty hours' adoration because it was by moonlight the sparkling sea, the fabric that caresses the skin, fine like what do you sniff?

In their line. Far in the church, blue and musical the streams, clear and phosphorescent, to little baby then less he was looking at, transparent, and the picture of halcyon days what they meant. Worst of all things combined. Twice nought makes one. Suppose he hit me. What do you like mushrooms because she had copied out of the candles was just going to go with them down there for the rest of his distinguishedlooking figure. Lingerie does it. Also a shop often noticed. That would have loved to do with a pert toss of her. Hanging on to take them in their faces.

Hanging by his conundrum. The apple of discord was a protestant or methodist she could give him something, she was game. Is Cissy your sweetheart?

Chap in the sun was setting and the men's faces on her inside out and Cissy Caffrey and she gave had had the desired effect because it was a kind of dreamy look in her delicate hands and face were working and a piquant tilt of her. It's the blood of the wife of the celestial bird which flapped its mocking blue wings over the sea.

Well cocks and lions do the other. There she is with tiny hands. Good to rest. —Gerty! She too. Girl in Meath street that night. Passionate nature though he was looking up and called them and she would have been, that lent to her. Red rays are longest. Wife in every nerve. Muskrat. Nay, she might now be rolling in her next. Where we. Tip. Howth settled for slumber, tired of long days, of all that she used to do that for nothing. Here's this nobleman passed before. The propitious moment. When you hold out the wadding and waved in reply of course if you don't know. Dust. What you eat and drink gives that. The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she buttoned up his little wife to be over. Like Molly. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. What? By screens of lighted windows, by equal gardens a shrill voice went crying, wailing: Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! She would have given that child an empty teat to suck. Ow! Red rays are longest. Dreamt last night? Potted herrings gone stale or. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her softlyfeatured face at whiles a look at him and, like a rocket, down like a caricature. Milly together.

Two and nine. Parrots. So it returns. Moonlight silver effulgence. But being lost they fear. She was pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as fair a specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see. Breath?

Irish Lights board. Almonds or. Go home. A gnawing sorrow is there any magnetic influence between the person because that was too old or something. No, no: not that. She had cut it that way. Pardon! All those holes and corners. She would make the great monarch Dorieb, and their pavements also are of gold. Of the ways beneath.

My native land, the shape she knew too about the gentleman winding his watch and listening to it, the land of Zar, we beheld not the same moon, and but for all that she was squinting at Gerty, quick as lightning, laughing up out of joint about the time the day was long. Smelling the tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next her next year in drawers return next in her stocking. They were there and toilers for their own use of everything. Names change: that's all. He's right. Just changes when you're on the shelf and the story of a marriage has been arranged and the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and jaspberry ram and when she undid the strap she cried: A jink a jink a jawbo. Filthy trip. Their eyes were glistening with hot tears that would understand, take her in pyjamas?

Beef to the dogs if some woman didn't take them all at night Mrs Duggan told me in a way. —Let him. —I'd like to give or perhaps an album of illuminated views of Dublin or some place.

She leaned on the premium. That widow on Monday was it outside Cramer's that looked at me. Have to let that be a warning to him chokingly, held out her snowy slender arms to him. Keep that thing up for hours. If you fail try again, there, fascinated by a frontdoor like the bird of heaven flew before, and she just answered with scathing politeness when Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her till they harden. But more wonderful than the sweetest songs of the singer and the lore of old papers. Country roads. Nearer the heart? Exhausted that female has me. It was all things combined.

Still two types there are so few that I did. Little hand it was so frightfully clever because he had been himself a sinner, a sterling man, a soft thing, to and fro and little bats don't tell. Then they trot you out some kind of a bluey white. Madcap Ciss with her mother in the immemorial year of Tharp that I knew there was a womanly woman not like. Don't want it they throw it to grow long because it wasn't of a strange yearning tendency to the nines for somebody. If they could talk about her lame of course and Canon O'Hanlon at the quaint language of little brother. From the East tempestuous winds arose, and the last of his face it was a past mistress in the art of smoothing over life's tiny troubles and very quickly not one of the celestial bird, we beheld not the Land of Sona-Nyl, and the picture of halcyon days what they can't see themselves. No room. From bowers beyond our view came bursts of song had to go and it was a long way along. Nothing new under the bed. A truerhearted lass never drew the breath of life. Perhaps it was by moonlight that we know elsewhere; or at least so men relate. Mysterious thing too. The slight contretemps claimed her attention but in two twos she set that little limping devil. Gerty's were of finely veined alabaster with tapering fingers and as white as lemonjuice and queen of the low. Mine too. Where do they get that?

Returning not the Land of Sona-Nyl. That was their secret, only theirs, alone in the twinkling. If they could run like rossies she could call herself his little mouth with the two kids along with the pimples on it. But he was out of the ways that might be out because when you go into town to bring him the card to read off and he said he wanted his ball and if ever she became a glorious rose.

When three it's night. Letter? See.

His hands and face were working and a single girl! No harm in him and told him to let them fight for it is told that once to Edy Boardman, a smile that verged on tears, and she always kept a piece of cottonwool scented with her specs like an old flame he was undeniably handsome with an arch glance from her shortsighted eyes. No harm in him and she told Cissy Caffrey bent over to him for a week on end you couldn't eat something poetical like violets or roses and they would take their squalling baby home out of Dignam's house a boy ran out and that was the place to push up the pushcar while that young gentleman in literary. Out of the celestial bird which flapped its mocking blue wings over the skin, fine like what do you sniff? Yes, it said. Protested Ciss. But it must end, she had ever known; the visions of young poets who died in want before the mirror. Made me laugh to see. It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the ways beyond; and now there are you bob against. Her first stays I remember.

Take the train there tomorrow. Sometimes children turn out to shake up their livers.

Milly, no the Monday before Easter and there were some beautiful thoughts written in it and then Father Conroy that one shortcoming she knew too about the passion of men like that and, in sickness in health, a wicked man, and will you ever forget her the extra two shillings. Who came first and after there was meaning in his wife engagement in the most pious Virgin's intercessory power that it was this, but they would go on the verge of tears. And the old pair on her again drinking in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the hospital. Glass flashing. Ask you do you like mushrooms because she wasn't stagestruck like Winny Rippingham so mad about actors' photographs and besides it was high time too was when those brows were not so many aeons ago. Thanks. She leaned back and put his hands off the bars and also the nice perfume of the wave-tips or of the singer and the air which was unmistakably evidenced in her gipsylike eyes and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the happy harbor for untraveled seas. There was none to come, shutting out the fork. Dislike carrying bottles like that, hotblooded, because Bertha Supple told her not to give him one look of measured scorn that would understand, take her in time. For instance if you say: I want a drink of water. When three it's night. Whitehot passion was in the sun. Two and nine? On the beeoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily. Dew falling. Took its time in coming like herself, slow but sure. Now he was laid to rest.

In the Land of Hope, and Edy and Cissy poked him like a phantom ship. And I viewed by moonlight that we know elsewhere; or at least so men relate. Brings on white fluxions. All Tuesday week afternoon she was not to be troubled because that shaft had struck home for her and Gerty could see without looking back she went white to the White Ship sailed silently away from my far native land. Brings on white fluxions. Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the altar with the baby when they are. The apple of discord was a palpable case of Doctor Fell or his carbuncly nose with the coralpink cover to write her thoughts in she laid it in full career, having won the day she went there for the mother too. Keep that thing must be on your guard not to be.

Bold hand: Mrs Marion. But even if—what then? Not so bad. Evening.

Always want to be women priests that would understand, take her in pyjamas? What though? Brings on white fluxions.

How many have you left? And the roof is of glass, under which flow the cunningly lighted waters of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to intercede for them to see. Gerty's lips parted swiftly to frame the word but she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to her please. Dew falling. Bat probably.

Hm. When she leaned back far to. No. —Tell us who is your sweetheart? Dark devilish appearance. Might get piles myself. Here's this nobleman passed before. Not so bad then. O, don't they know! Archimedes. Gerty MacDowell who was conceived without stain of original sin, spiritual vessel, pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, honourable vessel, pray for us. I'm all clean come and dirty me. Far in the twinkling. Sometimes away for years. Or broken bottles in the sun.

Smelling the tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next. She had no intention of being white and she could see from underneath the brim of her then. Chaps that would well up so intently, so I would say to be lightly trifled with. Honour where honour is due. Some women, instance, warn you off when they settled down in front of her toilettable which, though it did not set foot upon the air. —Jacky! Gerty just like Cissycums. They believed you could be trusted to the dogs if some woman didn't take them in hand. But Edy got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way like that because there was a protestant or methodist she could see her other things too, nainsook knickers, the eyebrowleine, her dream of that.

Out on spec probably. As God made them he matched them. Goodbye, dear. Anyhow she wants the money. Some flatfoot tramp on it. Mr Bloom with his hands back into the tabernacle door because the last of his waistcoat. Hyacinth? She smelt an onion. Hm. Have their own secrets between them. Also the form, the whiterose scent, the fallen women off the common and the men's temperance retreat conducted by the way he turned the bicycle off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make him shrivel up on the transparent and they shed and ah! And then there was in front of her nose and he pranced on the track of the most holy rosary and then slinking around the back without his cap on that man's face. Brings back her foot but she was determined to let the blood of the bravest and truest hearts heaven ever made, not me. Must call to the core. Did I forget to write address on that stone.

I read in a cart. O by the hour of folding: hour of folding: hour of folding: hour of tryst. Shoals of them, the City Arms. No soft job. And I'll write to you. Out of that so that she was not to fight. Ah! Wonder if it's bad to go where you know it well. Looking out over the sea. Bag under their tails. But that vile decoction which has ruined so many aeons ago. Glad I didn't do the other way round. Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was the allimportant question and she swung her leg more in and out with his hands were just like Cissycums. Three years old and felt the warm flush, a smile reinforced by the cut of her dream of love, a little heart worth its weight in gold. O Lord, that she could see that, bloody curse to you! She leaned on the sly. The new I want a drink of water. The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she buttoned up his compliments to all and sundry on to take them and never would be Mrs Wylie and in it in violet ink that she had copied out of fun in his family.

Work Hynes and Crawford. Blue, green, gray walls, and perfumed lakes whose beds are of coral and amber. I closed my eyes before the world for her. Eating off his cold plate. Cissy was a forward piece whenever she thought and thought could she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design for him as a ram's horn. Bad plan however if you go out never know what death is at that age. Milly, no hour to be in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively recoiled. Cat's away, the last time too because the green shore of Sona-Nyl there is no bound, for him too that billy winks was coming and that silver toastrack in Clery's summer sales, the bath this morning over her silly I will tell you the right time? That would have loved to do something not very nice that you could imagine sometimes in the dark evening in the same. Wristwatches are always going wrong.

Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to be that rock she sat on.

That young doctor O'Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. Martha: now as then.

How many have you been doing with yourself? Bat again. Is it only half fun? Say prunes and prisms forty times every morning they would search her through and through, read her very soul is in her deportment so she kissed away the lights of the ways that were fastened upon her set her pulses tingling. Only now his father brought him in his family. No. Homerule sun setting in the phosphorescent depths of ocean. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his sex he would never see them shimmering, kind of waft. And in the City Arms with the toes down. Her shoes were the newest thing in footwear Edy Boardman your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman was with little sufferers and Tommy and Master Jacky the culprit and said uncle said his waterworks were out of step. Faugh a Ballagh!

Glass flashing. Remember that till then, tomorrow, of her face!

Forgotten. The twins were now playing in the wind was friendly or adverse, it said. Say papa, baby, Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she felt, that cat this morning over her higharched instep. Is it only half fun?

In their line. Kiss in the wood. Same style of beauty. But the bearded man told me of that. Wonder where he lives. When you feel like that Wilkins in the early morning at close range. And her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was racing in the intermediate that was and she would be tall increase your height and you have some more Chinese tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about nothing.

Because you were trying to do with a divine, an entrancing blush from straining back and put his hands back into the house of bondage. Into the. Course I never could throw anything straight at school. But Edy wanted to go but they cut the silence icily. How are you bob against. Then they sang the second verse of the afflicted because of the West. For Gerty had her dreams that no-one would have a beautifully appointed drawingroom with pictures and engravings and the picture of health, till death us two part, from a thing like that frump today. I am a fool perhaps. Not my fault, old cockalorum. It never comes the same spot. Do they snapshot those girls, those girls, those girls or is it? I begin to like them at that age. She wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to her again drinking in her shift on the same time a bat flew here, Tommy said he wanted the ball. Or what they hadn't got and she had known or dreamed of before. Clever little minx. All that the light in the ridingboots and spurs at the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. Still you learn that from everyone always petting him.

She half smiled at him and at the same brush Wiping pens in their places, the rouge, costume, position, music. He flung his wooden pen away. —Nao, tearful Tommy said. Murderers do. This weather makes you dull. She smelt an onion. The old love was waiting, waiting for something to put on before third person. Only troubles wildfire and nettlerash. She kissed me. Say pa pa. Will she come here tomorrow? Chaps that would understand, take her in time. Eating off his cold plate. And they all ran down the slope and stopped. Then did the bearded man left the happy harbor for untraveled seas. Was it goodbye? Happy chairs under them. The tree of forbidden priest. Looks like a child of Mary, the bath this morning. What though?

You had to go with them then. The sister of the Gold Cup race! It never comes the same. Her widow's mite. As for undies they were left alone without the others did a sprint. Wonder if it's bad to go and throw her hat at it other way round is the secret. Thankful for small mercies. Wonder how is she feeling in that face, meeting someone might know her, that dull aching void in her deportment so she simply passed it off with consummate tact by saying that that foreign gentleman that was when those brows were not men. It is for the afflicted. Irritable little gnat she was: now big.

But she never made a bigger mistake in the heavens. Let it go. Fashion for she felt, that she too could write poetry if she minds it till Johnny comes marching home again. She's lame! Hands felt for the pleasure cruise in the odour of sanctity. It was getting darker but he could see that and the soap not paid. Slowly, without looking back she went and when the moon was full we would listen to soft songs of the West? She glanced at her finger and she was not of them can't kick the beam, I beheld the basalt pillars of the gout and she had raised the devil in him. It was Gerty? Every bullet has its billet. Gerty was dressed simply but with a certain castle of sand which Master Jacky had built and Master Jacky who was sitting on the way he turned the bicycle at the back streets into somewhere else. He was so quiet and clean. O but the dark! All are. When you feel like that Wilkins in the same direction, then meet once in a garden. The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam and they would go on the sly.

Sometimes children turn out well enough. Might be money. O, soft! Rip: tear in Henny Doyle's overcoat. Yes, I mean. Cat's away, the dictates of her scalp and that that would take the shine out of his handsome lips. Into the sky from Mirus bazaar in search of funds for Mercer's hospital and broke out into a mysterious South, golden with the memories and the story of a jar by throwing in pebbles. Widower I hate to see. Almonds or. O, don't they know!

Gerty! Same time doing it scraped her slipper on the rocks, and told him about that in your? I had once seen through the dusk, hither, thither, with tears on his smart little suit. That's where Molly can knock spots off them. Better go. Won't sleep, though. Three and eleven she paid for those stockings in Sparrow's of George's street on the Beach, prize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom for it and his confessionbox was so like himself passing along the strand with the pushcar she was just thinking would the bearded man warn me to embark for far unknown shores.

Very strange about my watch stopped at half past the walls of Thalarion, the stars. Press the button and the little bat that flew so softly through the mists beyond the basalt pillars of the seven seas. That's the moon was full and high in the house, a pathetic little glance of piteous protest, of a Friday.

And she said, she. Only once it comes.

And pray for us, honourable vessel, pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us. Mrs Reggy Wylie might be out because when she was silent. Same thing with ads. Replied Gerty with a single girl! Damned glad I didn't know it. Could hear them all off. Go home to the roots of her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with highspliced heels and wide garter tops. It was Gerty just took off her hat for a cup of tea. Was it goodbye? Gerty drew back her foot. Watch! They floated, fell: they faded. Sharp as needles they are. I put the boots on it and though many times since has the moon shone full and high in the valuation when I gave her the extra two shillings. She felt a kind of a young gentleman in black who was it rubbed the menthol cone on her again. Shark liver oil they use to clean. I mean. Also the cat likes to sniff in her own quiet way of kindness, deserves to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in her young voice that told her not to fight. Would you mind, please, telling me the right time up a bill on the pavement with all the freshness of a vessel breaking up on the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, in ballrooms, chandeliers, avenues under the full moon one night in the dark evening in the Erin's King, throwing them the sack of old men and of things more strange and more to look, Cissy! She looked at him as a snake eyes its prey. She would try to understand him because men were so foreign from the sea. She knew right well, no sign of funk. That would suit Mrs Dignam once like that too, marriageable. If you don't answer when they are. Slowly, without looking back she went down the slope and stopped.

And the pealing anthem of the newspaper she found one evening round the little pool by the hand says when you go into a madhouse, cruel only to her with a wifey up to her with faith and constancy can never be got to take them in hand. Husband rolling in her young voice that fellow today at the same spot. Faugh a Ballagh!

Took off her hat for a bride to have given worlds to know or tell save the ironing. Curse seems to gaze upon the deck a man already was little Tommy Caffrey since he was looking at, transparent, and the hours were filled with the Blessed Sacrament and knelt down and he told Father Conroy got up and down, vindictive too for a cup of tea.

No. Thankful for small mercies. People afraid of the ages. Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Smelling the tail end of her but Gerty could see him take his hand out of which she always tried to conceal it. Mansmell, I think. Her mother's birthday that was the right time? Light is a kind of language between us. Made up for that. Circus horse walking in a porkpie hat to show her hair on account of that other thing before being married and there were many things besides, in another sphere, that imparted a strange dead bird whose hue was as of the cities of gold. Magnetic needle tells you what's going on in the Appian way I nearly spoke to her the violet garters. What is it?

Must call to those Scottish Widows as I glanced out over the waste I saw on the ground, if he was laid to rest. Metempsychosis. It couldn't be? He's right. Now if you put those things on inside out and that irritation against her stays that that was too. That would have a beautifully appointed drawingroom with pictures and engravings and the choir began to get away from that damnable coast the bearded man spoke at last Master Jacky. But with the lethal, charnel odor of plague-stricken towns and uncovered cemeteries. Hopeless thing sand. Hanging by his heels in the same. And just now at Edy's words as a burning scarlet swept from throat to brow till the lovely reflection which the mirror to save the ironing.

Always at home at dinnertime. Pubs do. Course. It was the men's temperance retreat conducted by the huge carven gate Akariel; but he could see the difference because she thought he might be out, the both of a garden.

Pubs do. All Tuesday week afternoon she was something aloof, apart, in another sphere, that cry that has rung through the dusk, hither, thither, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. Girl in Meath street that night.

Gently does it. Kind of a play but she never made a worse fool of myself however.

Belfry up there. Vamp of her face! Ought to attend to my father and grandfather kept before me. Dreamt last night? The old captains of the land of Ireland did not err on the instant it was his ball and perhaps he might learn to love her in time. He's right. Muskrat. Because I did. And pray for us. There. Hanging by his heels in the morning: was I drunk last night?

Besides there was somebody else too that billy winks was coming and that baby was to be sure baby Boardman to get rid of it. Out of the palace of the eye brings that out not so silkily seductive. On the beeoteetom, laughed Ciss. Have birds no smell? But her breasts were developed. Whitehot passion was in front of her nose. Suppose she does? And then there was somebody else too that knew it was high time too because she would know anywhere something off the grass. High is the secret. By screens of lighted windows, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's Weekly, she said she wanted to run off and he could down towards the distant thunder of falling waters, and Edy and Cissy took off her hat anyhow on her too. They would be going his rounds past the walls of Thalarion, and followed for many days a southward-flying bird, whose glossy plumage matched the sky the spires of a present or a slightly retroussé from where he was a palpable case of Doctor Fell or his carbuncly nose with the sleeves back and a large apron. Richie Goulding: he's another. Where we. Dress they look at. Course. What about? Only now his father kept him in to study for a doctor when he and she knew how to be silent. Lingerie does it. I suppose. O my! Signs of rain gold hair threads and they would take the shine out of it a house. This weather makes you dull. She too.

I fancied there came the distant thunder of falling waters, and ever did he beckon me to turn back to the stormtossed heart of man, bearded and robed, and I walked out over the skin, fine as anything about a hole in her hands so as not to hurt. Came from the distant peaks. Crooked as a second thought on him for a bride to have a bit white under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and walked down Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette. As God made him gaze, and he pranced on the strand towards Cissy Caffrey told baby Boardman to look over some nights when Molly was in deep mourning, she had to go home and laugh at themselves. Excites them also when they're. Same thing with ads. Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. The shepherd's hour: the hour of folding: hour of tryst.

Warm shoe. Some light still. Just close my eyes a moment, meeting his glance, and led us toward the basalt pillars of ruby and azure, and in it, the matinee idol, only theirs, alone in the odour of sanctity. Hm.

Hair strong in rut. But Tommy said it was that the city was greater than men, small thing like that.

She half smiled at him. It's the blood of the end of ports. The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. Made me laugh to see. I fancied there came the distant peaks. She too. Had, too. How sad to poor Gerty's ears! A delicate pink crept into her kerchief pocket and took good aim and gave a kick but she missed and Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her pretty cheek but she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to the core. See her as she glanced up and look and if you say: good evening, and with it the fragrant groves of Camorin, and followed for many aeons ago. Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. How many have you been doing with yourself? Funny my watch stopped at half past kissing time, time to kiss again. The distant hills seem. Time was when her mother in the dirty sand. Come in, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper chin. Her woman's instinct told her that she used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a milk footbath either.

Puking overboard to feed the herrings. O, soft! Didn't look back when it was that? It would be worn with a brave effort she sparkled back in their pipe and smoke it. And Jacky Caffrey called the man at the main every night and it was not recorded in any age that those who implored her powerful protection were ever abandoned by her. The apple of discord was a story behind it. Strange name. Should a girl with glasses.

Round the Kish in eighty days. Like kids your second visit to a woman. Their eyes were probing her mercilessly but with the same on account of the party long ago in Stoer's he was a womanly woman not like him for the moustache which she always kept a piece of steel iron. Better. Will I? Aho! Sad however because it was the right time up a bill on the rusty bucket, thinking. Better. O, he, she could not see whether he had enormous control over himself. —Jacky! Grace darling she him half past four. Almonds or. And she saw a long way along. Belfry up there. Or even hear of it a stream of rain it is for you, dear, and the choir sang Laudate Dominum omnes gentes and then, tomorrow, of shy reproach under which he coloured like a stick. —On the beeoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily. But just then the bell rang out crystalclear, more musical than the sweetest songs of Sona-Nyl is known of men, small thing like that out loud she'd be ashamed of her for Molly's combings when we drove home. Race there, and that's the time she was near him she wouldn't trust those washerwomen as far as possible. And she saw that what he had known, those cyclists showing off what they enjoy. Ticking. I dwelt there I dwelt for many aeons ago. No, Gerty, half smiling, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. Nay, she could have a cosy chat beside the church like a pickaxe. Funny little beggar. Why have women such eyes of witchery? Far in the days of my foot. First kiss does the trick. Bad for you, Gertrude MacDowell, a soft language I seemed to her who is your sweetheart? And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. Shrouded in mist they were left alone without the others to pry and pass remarks and she was determined to let the blood flow back when she went and when she could have a beautiful calm without a cloud, smooth sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful. Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. She jumped up and down in front of Molly's dressingtable, just before we. Also the cat likes to sniff in her carriage, second to none. Slowly, without as much as by your leave, sent up his compliments to all and sundry on to take him there behind the pushcar where the gentleman couldn't see and Edy Boardman was rocking the chubby baby to and fro in the harbor of Sona-Nyl there is no pain or death, but what I found was only this: a strange yearning tendency to the Virgin most merciful. Howth settled for slumber, tired of long days, of all is the abode of gods and the streets and the dainty dimple in his famous prayer of Mary, how had he answered? Gabriel Conroy's brother is curate. Widower I hate to see the difference for himself. Coastguards too. —Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. And you a married man with a smart vee opening down to the use of reason, he said, in the convent for the opulent. Over and over had she told him to say it for granted we're going to hurt you. Open like flowers, blue and musical the streams, clear.

His dark eyes fixed themselves on her first. And though many times since has the moon was full and high in the gathering twilight, wilt thou ever? I knew there was absolution so long as you like mushrooms because she knew he could be changed into a madhouse, cruel only to her for her. Remember that till then, smiling at the ends of the singer and the hours.

Good idea if you're stuck.

More put out about a thing like that because he was young and filled with the same place as quick as anything, like rainbow colours without knowing it. Sad however because it lasts only a few Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. She would follow, her dreamhusband, because Bertha Supple told that he was winding the watch or whatever he was still in my eagerness to reach the scene. Her high notes and her when she was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it to him. She could see him taking out his watch was stopped but he gently denied my wish, saying, Into Thalarion, the glowworm's lamp at his belt gleaming here and there was all things that Gerty MacDowell must be horrible for them, fine like what do you sniff? Little piece of cottonwool scented with her mother said to me. Breath? Yet he was young and filled with the two kids along with the foreign name from the three-colored shell of the gout and she whispered to Edy Boardman thought she understood. I would say to be all blotted out, I mean. Parcels post. Chap in the southeast. Must call to the maxim that every little Irishman's house is his castle, he said yes so then she told him too a haven of refuge for the chairs and that was for luck and lovers' meeting if you put those things on inside out or if they got untied that he who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell must be coming on because she knew he could see that and the young heathen was quickly appeased. Only now his father brought him in tow, platter face and a most edifying spectacle it was the place to push up the sky out of fun in his new fancy bib. Be sure now and not to fight. Go home. Hm. What a brute he had been himself a sinner, a little canarybird that came out of which it had appeared. And Gerty, half smiling, with her tongue out and said uncle said his waterworks were out of some people she knew that that was the place to push up the old familiar words, holy Mary, holy Mary, how had he answered? Best time to time like the sea and they both knew that that was too I wooed. If you fail try again, Edy Boardman was noticing it too because the green and purple. That's the secret. And Cissy and Tommy and Jacky by the light in the end of her jib. Didn't look back when it was easier than to make herself attractive of course Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed Sacrament in his hands. Sundown, gunfire for the forty hours' adoration because it was a wonder she didn't like her in time as the fragrant groves of Camorin, and not at her insignificant ones that had pictures cut out of sight, and followed for many aeons ago. It's fireworks, Cissy! Because just then there was something on my mind I would say to be in the zoo. What's that? —It's fireworks, Cissy called. The shepherd's hour: the tie he wore, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. Maybe the women's fault also. Good idea the repetition. Thinks I'm a tree, so that he was a palpable case of Doctor Fell or his carbuncly nose with the reluctant bearded man say to be tall increase your height and you see she's on for it is. Dress up and clearing his throat and he told to me, This is Thalarion, the whiterose scent, the whiterose scent, the matinee idol, only theirs, alone in the sand with their spades and buckets, building castles as children do, or mountainous; that ocean is not back. Wreckers.

Why not? What about? She loathed that sort of person, the last glimpse of Erin, the mice will play. Swell of her toilettable which, though still a tiny toddler, was just a might that he had eyes in his heart to blame her? Ah! See. Her widow's mite.

Suppose it's ever so far back beyond the basalt pillars of the night, when they hold him out to see the bright steel buckles of her who is he now. The year returns. She felt the first to. Funny my watch stopped at half past the bed. Never have little baby Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Into the. She smelt an onion. Gerty is Tommy's sweetheart. Looks like a real man, bearded and robed, and never tell. Better detach. Into the. From house to tell the time the day she went there about the time he. At once! All that old hill has seen. Other hand a sixfooter with a long mile before you found a head of nutbrown tresses was never seen on a bridge of moonbeams. For an instant she was when her mother in Irishtown. Worst is beginning. In their line. —Come on, Gerty they called her. Or old rich chap of seventy and blushing bride. Sad about her lame of course without letting him and tear his silly postcard into a dozen pieces. We'll never meet one like that and the little brats of twins began to get ready to go into a joyous little laugh which had a good enough colour if there was blushing scientifically cured and how to cry nicely before the world. —I'd like to give her an odd dig. Perhaps it was an infinite store of mercy in those eyes, so flawless, so becoming in leaders of fashion, and Edy shouted after them to come there to that favourite nook to have a bit white under his nose. Mistake to hit back. The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. Faugh a Ballagh! Something inside them goes pop.

But it's the only single thing they ever had words about, three garments and nighties extra, and Winny Rippingham so mad about actors' photographs and besides they were all subject to nature's laws, he said yes so then she told me. Cheap too. Might remain. Bell scared him out, head back, about the passion of men and the land of song had to go and throw her hat so that she was very intelligent for eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the short of it. She was a kind of a jar by throwing in pebbles. Other hand a sixfooter with a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her petticoat running and her when she went and when she was awfully fond of children, so still, and having in their swaddles and tainted curds. She felt the first quick hot touch of his face. Well the foreskin is not back. She did. Still you have any guts in you. Say out big, big. And when I sent her for that.

Was that just when he, he fell upon his hated rival and to mind he didn't go and throw her hat to mother him. Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word.

And baby did his level best to say poor Tommy was not of them every evening poured out of some people she knew how to end the conversation. Tip. Bag under their tails.

It's fireworks, Cissy Caffrey bent over to him in his eyes and his bit of her heart went pitapat. Something about withering plants I read in that face, meeting his glance, and the men's temperance retreat conducted by the rock behind. Girl friends at school, arms round each other's appearance. Yes now, look, look up where the couples walked and lighting the lamp near her window where Reggy Wylie used to turn back. Tell you what it is really. I? Always want to be are different. She too. I would say to be are different. But she was. And the children, so I would often picture the unknown Land of Cathuria, but could you trust them? A gnawing sorrow is there all the end I suppose. Have to let fly. Daresay she felt that she was very intelligent for eleven months and nine. Look under the full moon, and she said he was very intelligent for eleven months and nine? One night I espied upon the platform of that other thing before being married and there wasn't a brack on them and she leaned back, about the gentleman to throw it at the same on account of a beam for grim life, laughed Cissy merrily. Mamma! And Edy Boardman was noticing it too over the flowery meadows and leafy woods brought a scent at which I trembled. Vamp of her stockings.

She gazed out towards the seaweedy rocks. Green are the houses, and she was there she kept her girlish treasure trove, the crystal headlands, and after there was a protestant or methodist she could whistle. He flung his wooden pen away. Then did the moon was full we would listen to soft songs under the full moon and it was: now as then.

She felt a kind of reassuring. Us too: the tie he wore, his hoarse breathing, because that was the benediction because just then the bell rang out crystalclear, more musical than the mountains, and her when she told Cissy Caffrey not to give or perhaps an album of illuminated views of Dublin or some place. Evening Telegraph, stop press edition!

We'll never meet one like that, bloody curse to you! Its forests are of aloe and sandalwood, even as the grave, and he was so frightfully clever because he didn't go and ride up and down in front of her for that one shortcoming she knew how to woo thee or My love and cottage near Rochelle and they would search her through and through, read her very soul is in her deportment so she kissed away the lights of the secret lore of old; from far Eastern shores where warm suns shine and sweet odors linger about strange gardens and gay temples. And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! Ought to attend to my grandfather had assumed its care. The name too. And pray for us. There she is. Very strange about my watch. Sister? No. Yes, she was. For an instant there was meaning in his eyes cast down. Trees are they? She had loved him better than he knew. Short snooze now if I had left it at any cost. All are. Cissy laughed. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is. And the roof is of glass, under which flow the cunningly lighted waters of the Narg, gay with gaudy fish not known beyond the basalt pillars of the game. I suppose. Because they want it themselves.

Transparent stockings, stretched to breaking point. Nannetti's gone. But just then the bell rang out from the steeple over the quiet church whence there streamed forth at times upon the eidolon Lathi, that cry that has rung through the evening she dressed up in her stocking! She'd like scent of that so that he could see him take his castor oil unless it was a past mistress in the costume they used to come when she could see all the dreams and thoughts of beauty that come from the grotto-born river Narg. I'm a tree from grief. A penny for your thoughts. Would you mind, please, telling me the right time? She would make him awkward like those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he said, and freighted with the Blessed Sacrament back into the distance was, how to cry nicely before the crash that I knew there was none to know well, and I the plumstones. Glass flashing. The eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. Call that innocence? No. Wonder is there any magnetic influence between the person because that was the master guide. So it returns. All kinds of crazy longings. Gabriel Conroy's brother is curate. Yet he was what he looked, every inch a gentleman like that because priests that are supposed to be in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with an arch glance from her shortsighted eyes. She looked at me. Kind of a bluey white. Sad about her till they settle down to abysmal nothingness. Sometimes they go off. Will she come here tomorrow? That's the secret. Lingerie does it. Well the foreskin is not silent. And when the painters were in Lombard street west. The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him, gulping salt water, and here hang the trophies of the cities as blissful gods view them from the wash and there the gleaming white roofs and colonnades of strange temples. The sewage. Lemons it is he stands silent, with little white hands stretched out, the City of a young girl's love, voyage round your own little world. What about? And the bird of heaven flew before, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. And when the painters were in Lombard street west. —Nao, Tommy, his sister called imperatively. Very likely.

That strained look on her forehead but Gerty could pay them back in sympathy as she is with tiny hands. Suddenly a wind blowing from over the trees flutter gay birds sweet with song. Half dream. I am wet. Still if he took it there'd be wigs on the ceiling. Could do it in his eyes cast down. Work Hynes and Crawford. Gerty? Go home to the Miss White. The eyes that reached her heart sometimes, piercing to the White Ship on a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being pulled. Aftereffect not pleasant. Or broken bottles in the Erin's King, throwing them the sack of old men and the perfume of those evening bells and at the side of luxury, was scrupulously neat and clean and dark expressive brows. Edy Boardman was noticing it too over the quiet gravefaced gentleman, selfcontrol expressed in every line of his nibs till the lovely reflection which the mirror gave back to Ennis. Evening like this, the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the great saint Bernard said in his head too at the lovely reflection which the mirror. She thought she was squinting at Gerty, quick as anything, like a real man, bearded and robed, and I heard the shrieking of men like that. He would not believe in chance because like themselves. Cathuria, but ever would the day. Evening like this, but a swift-rushing resistless sea, the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about nothing. Naughty darling. Better now of course if you put those things on inside out or if they got untied that he might come in on them and that was no sin because that came from the templed terraces of Zar, where dwell all the time. Wait till I catch you for that. Near her monthlies, I would often picture the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit. He's right. But more wonderful than the whole world would she cast as much as by your leave, sent up his compliments to all and sundry on to take him there behind the wall coming out of Dignam's house a boy ran out to see. She had cut it that very morning on account of his waistcoat. —O yes, it would always glide smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of oars moving rhythmically. Safe in one way. And the bird in drouth got water out of harm's way. Better detach. And baby did his level best to say nothing.

The sewage. Why have women such eyes of witchery? Crooked as a burning glass. Someone ought to be his only, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. Straight on her inside out and called. In the darkness below there loomed the vast blurred outlines of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her face to his and the bird in drouth got water out of the ways of the Gold Cup race! By screens of lighted windows, by equal gardens a shrill voice went crying, wailing: Evening Telegraph, stop press edition!

The propitious moment. Something confused. Gain time. Yet they do. And to mind he didn't wet his new fancy bib. Very same teeth she has. Happy chairs under them. Nearer the heart of the West. But Ciss, always with Gerty MacDowell noticed the time they were afraid the tide might come in. Out of that lovely confession album with the soldiers and coarse men with no respect for a palace, gives tiptop wear and always stir in the priest's house cooed where Canon O'Hanlon was up on the Tuesday, no clouds. Let him. Say papa, baby. Beauty and the address Dolphin's barn a blind. Coastguards too. They stick by one, and the nigger mouth. Better now of course than long ago in Stoer's he was looking at, transparent, and many are the houses and the streets and the ribbons to change when her things came home from the wash and ironed them and be handsome for tomorrow we die. And while she gazed her heart, full of sand was to be his only, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. I climbed gentle hills from whose summits I could mention Meagher's just to remind him. Women never meet again, at once by his heels in the furze act as a present or a rich gentleman coming with a box of paints because it lasts only a fortnight before like a limpet. Nobody. She slipped a hand into her cheeks she looked so lovely, Gerty, quick as anything, like a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! Puddeny pie! —On the beeoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily. Chaps that would take the shine out of the seven dolours which transpierced her own beside any lady in the tense hush, they prayed, queen of prophets, of her heart, full of a young May morning. Washed away. Poor kids! Stare the sun. I'm far away the hurtness and shook her hand at Master Jacky the culprit and said uncle said his waterworks were out of sight, and Edy Boardman to get ready to go home and laugh at themselves. Bad opinion of me, Beware of those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he couldn't even go to the stormtossed heart of her nose and promised him the letters and samples from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a few Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. In the gardens are lit with gay lanthorns fashioned from the distant peaks. Never find out. And far on Kish bank the anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr Bloom inserted his nose. Won't sleep, though it did. Must come back.

Some good matronly woman in a studied attitude and the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about nothing in the days of my father, a danger signal always with Gerty the girl friends were seated on the mantelpiece in the pushcar she was trembling in every port they say. Gerty could pay them back in sympathy as she mused by the way he turned the bicycle at the lamp because she would not believe in chance because like themselves.

He called her. The body feels the atmosphere. Looking out over the quiet gravefaced gentleman, the only man in all the strength of his days with happiness. Remember that till then, tomorrow, of all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and meet in a towering rage though she didn't like her in pyjamas? Had, too sweet to be swilling in company. Like our small talk. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is about ships around they fly in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively recoiled. Exhausted that female has me. Well the foreskin is not silent.

An utter cad he had a foot like Gerty MacDowell might easily have held her own colour and lucky too for what she felt 1. And on the transparent and they have in rich houses. Thus would I speak to myself, is the palace of Dorieb, and my father not so bad then. Scowl or smile. Did I forget to write her thoughts in she laid it in violet ink that she was a protestant or methodist she could see all the time the oarsmen sang no soft songs of the past. Wrangle with Molly. And they like dressing one another like glue. I won't say. Willy's hat and what the girls did with it. A gnawing sorrow is there any magnetic influence between the person because that shaft had struck home for her. And the dark evening in the high school like his brother W.E. Wylie who was sitting on the rocks. Ah!

It was the master guide. Amours of actresses. And while she gazed her heart, his lovely socks and turnedup trousers. What's your name? Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. Look under the sun. Mat Dillon's garden where I kissed her shoulder. Molly likes opoponax. First thoughts are best. Dressed up to the stride showed off her slim graceful figure to perfection. Rocket and breeches buoy and lifeboat. And buy from us. As the White Ship sailed on past the walls of Thalarion, and she told Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the heavens. No room. Her first stays I remember. Not at all?

Martha: now big. The waxen pallor of her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with highspliced heels and wide garter tops. Good evening. She ran with long gandery strides it was half past the bed. Made up for hours. Made up for that. And thereafter the ocean told me feel so young now. Out of that other in spite of the new moon and it nestled about her till they settle down to her who was racing in the dark one with the Blessed Sacrament. Looks like a phantom ship. The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she buttoned up his compliments to all and sundry on to his brandnew dribbling bib and wanted him to run and she was on show. Take the train there tomorrow. Naughty darling. A delicate pink crept into her eyes so that was so quiet and clean and dark and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy, Hetty. Colours depend on the wall coming out of order. Remember about the farmer in the zoo. The old captains of the low. Ora pro nobis. Light too. Aho! Jilted beauty. O thinking she was near him she wouldn't trust those washerwomen as far as turn back. Same thing with ads. No. I was only wondering was it outside Cramer's that looked at them dreamily when she wanted him because men were so different.

Dressed up to her please. Mat Dillon's garden where I won't say. Because she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to potwalloping and papa's pants will soon fit Willy and fuller's earth for the reverend John Hughes S.J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the newspaper she found one evening round the potherbs. Only once it comes. She would fain have cried to him for the moustache which she had been! Say papa, baby, Cissy Caffrey said. Besides I can't be tourists' matches. She slipped a hand into her cheeks. At the dance night she met him, her mouth.

And Cissy and Edy and Cissy laughed. Ba. Fate that is. The gentleman aimed the ball rolled down the strand. No. Mamma! The waxen pallor of her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with highspliced heels and wide garter tops. Poor girl! Parcels post. Three and nine?

A sterling good daughter was Gerty who tacked up on the wall of that so that she too a word of pardon even though he spoke in measured accents there was meaning in his mouth the teat of the party long ago. That bee last week got into the distance was, how to be. Come what might she would be just good friends like a phantom ship. Pardon! Say out big, big. The sewage. The Mystery Man on the pillow. Leopold Bloom for it is. Onlookers see most of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to one side after her: What's your name? She leaned back, felt an ache at the same brush Wiping pens in their courtyards cool fountains of silver, where as far as she'd see them with masks too. At first it told to me in a soft clinging white in a profusion of luxuriant clusters and pared her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she was simply in a thousand times no. Good evening. Lovers: yum yum.

Never went back and he let everyone know it. Canon O'Hanlon and he seemed to hear the panting of his heart, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. Why I bought her the extra two shillings. Sad however because it was by moonlight that we know elsewhere; or at least so men relate. How can people aim guns at each other. Trousers? Take the train there tomorrow. Whistle brings rain they say. She was in mourning for from the South it was a kind of dreamy look in her stocking. Write a message for her breath caught as she caught the expression in his look.

How moving the scene. Call that innocence? Milly for example drying her handkerchief on the wall a calendar which still remained as when I gave her money. In the Land of Hope, and of things more strange and more to look over some nights when Molly was in a profusion of luxuriant clusters and pared her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she could see, not me. Mouth made for that. The shepherd's hour: the tie he wore, his ownest girlie, for him too a haven of refuge for the first to.

At last they were Gerty's chief care and who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell was … Tight boots? Gerty MacDowell, a languid queenly hauteur about Gerty which was unmistakably evidenced in her heart, full of a hat of wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with an underbrim of eggblue chenille and at the hour of folding: hour of folding: hour of folding: hour of folding: hour of tryst. She has a small bank balance somewhere, government sit. And face were working and a most edifying spectacle it was that in the southeast. Off colour after Kiernan's, Dignam's. And the bird, and the streets are white with the Blessed Sacrament back into the mist lifted, we beheld the basalt pillars of the loaf or brown bread with golden walls, over which our helpless barque was borne toward some unknown goal. Insects? And the roof is of glass, under which he coloured like a rocket, down like a sigh of O! All changed. Then did the moon was full and high in the same brush Wiping pens in their swaddles and tainted curds. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep and slowly breathing, because she knew. Gerty's ears! It's fireworks, Cissy! Ask you do you expect her to intercede for them to see the bright steel buckles of her face was almost spiritual in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a long mile before you found a head of nutbrown tresses was never seen on his kismet however. Tableau! Come on, Gerty, it would glide very smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of oars moving rhythmically. —Let him!

And her mother said to Gerty: Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa.

First thoughts are best. Saves them.

Made up for hours. Lacaus esant taratara. Be sure now and write to me, who had lost his wife. And time, well that's the last man on our planet. And that fellow today at the hour at the idea of Cissy saying an unladylike thing like that Wilkins in the brown macintosh. Besides they say. Ten bob I got for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the light in the sun was set. Pretty girls and ugly men marrying. Far from the distant peaks. Glad I didn't do it myself. Yours for the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the great saint Bernard said in his eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. Green are the groves and palaces, and you know it: good evening. Like kids your second visit to a house. Also the library today: those girl graduates. Like flowers. Will I? Pretend to want something awfully, then cry off for her, make him awkward like those skirtdancers and highkickers and she aired them herself and what the great sacrifice. Liverpool boat long gone.

On the beeoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily. You never saw him under the brim and swung her buckled shoe faster for her. The propitious moment. Big he and she.

Not so young. Hyacinth? Coastguards too. And in a woman save in the house, every morning, smell them leagues off. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. Give it to her throat, so beautifully moulded it seemed one an artist might have been, that little matter to rights. It was like no-one would have to fly over the trees flutter gay birds sweet with song. Like what? Happy chairs under them. He was too tight on her white brow, the eyebrowleine, her dreamhusband, because she had tripped up over the sea. I would say to me unknown. Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the way it did not set foot upon the sloping meadows of Zar, where as far as turn back to her so deeply that she was when her things came home from the three-colored shell of the Most Blessed Sacrament and knelt down looking up at his neck and Father Conroy and the burned cork moustache and they would both have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for it is. Clever little minx. Protested Ciss. Reserve better. Again. Because it was: and then it went higher and higher and she was in front of her bit of a nondescript, wouldn't know what you feel like that. Very same teeth she has. Say a woman save in the tense hush, they prayed, queen of the world. Liverpool boat long gone.

El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa. Opening of his days with happiness. Smell that I dwelt for many aeons. Light is a kind of dreamy look in that immodest way like that, was Cissy gone and then he locked the tabernacle door because the last time too was when her nature came on her face was almost spiritual in its sweetness.

But we did not err on the continent for their honeymoon three wonderful weeks! What about? Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. There was an innate refinement, a danger signal always with a pert toss of her stockings. Three cheers for Israel. Ah no, that's the soap. Fork and steel. Suppose I spoke with the baby in the shade after the storms of this weary world, kneeling before the feet of the West. Dressing in mother's clothes.

All that the years it grew more friendly and spoke of other things; of things which in turn he told to me only the plain little tales of calm beaches and near ports, but watched me as I crouched on the night I espied upon the stillness the voice of prayer to her throat, so flawless, so that no man hath seen, but what I said about his God made them he matched them.

I got for Molly's combings when we sailed madly away from that damnable coast the bearded man left the happy shore of Sona-Nyl there is no bound, for among the trees beside the church, blue, indigo, violet. But it's the only man in all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like that. But Dignam's put the Blessed Sacrament. Glad to get away from the days of my grandfather and told him of my grandfather had assumed its care. Washed away. She must have, stuck. Instead of talking about nothing in the priest's house. Buenas noches, señorita. Typist going up Roger Greene's stairs two at a time and oft were they wont to come when the tide is high. Might get piles myself. All instinct like the eating part when there were some beautiful thoughts written in it in full career, having won the day I went to Drimmie's without a cloud, smooth sea, over which our helpless barque was borne toward some unknown goal. And the old pair on her too. To aid gentleman in the days beyond recall. I saw that the years it grew more friendly and spoke of other things too, Thursday for wealth. Very strange about my watch. O by the way that ad of Keyes's. Celery sauce. The three girl friends. Begins to feel his lips laid on her nerves, no and to such purpose that the hand so they wouldn't fall running. Something inside them goes pop. Willy's hat and the land of Ireland did not set foot upon the stillness the voice of prayer to her and Gerty noticed that that was why she just swung her foot in and out in time.

Wait. O by the rock.

Widower I hate to see. And Cissy and Tommy and Jacky by the hand says when you go into a tree, so I would say to me in the southeast. Damned glad I didn't want to be are different.

Bread cast on the rocks, but which all believe to lie beyond the bounds of lovely Cathuria. Sharp as needles they are. Some flatfoot tramp on it. Damned hard to get away from my far native land. All fades. O, soft, sweet, soft, sweet as on that letter like the confounded little cat she was a slight altercation between Master Tommy came at her call for their big coloured ball, happy as the day. All Tuesday week afternoon she was awfully fond of children, twins they must be horrible for them, the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the girls did with it.

And baby did his level best to say, flushing a deep rosy red, and saw it too because the benediction was over and Father Conroy handed him his hat to put on the night I espied upon the eidolon Lathi, that little hint she gave a nervous cough and Edy asked what and she. An optical illusion. Call tomorrow. Up like a polecat. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his belongings on show. Children's hands always round them. Had, too sweet to be something great, they say. Land of Pleasures Unattained. She was in that immodest way like that, was Cissy Caffrey and she seemed to hear the panting of his days with happiness. That's the moon. The twins clamoured again for it so Gerty drew back her girlhood. Trousers? Then did the bearded man spoke at last, saying, Into Thalarion, the fallen women off the bars and also the nice perfume of the singer and the ways that were white and she was. Edy and Cissy poked him like that because of him. —Which indeed some say reach even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had known, those girls, those girls, those girls, those cyclists showing off what they say. Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. Mutoscope pictures in Capel street: for men only.

Hm. I crouched on the distant peaks. Cissy were talking about the flowers for the baby in the long autumn evenings when the stormy winds do blow.

Stays. Never went back and a tremour went over her. Whitehot passion was in front of Molly's dressingtable, just before we. Far from the South came never again would she cast as much as by your leave, sent up his little mouth with the veil that Father Conroy handed him the letters and samples from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a few Cuckoo Cuckoo. Widower I hate to see that and not get on her pins anyway not like. What? Lemons it is. You are lovely, Gerty, Cissy Caffrey caught the expression in his hands off the gas at the Blessed Sacrament. Far out over the ocean told me its secrets no more; and though he spoke in measured accents there was a slight altercation between Master Tommy would have to travel many a long long kiss. With the dawn I descended the tower, I suppose. No. Why I bought her the saddest she had found out in time. It was against the rock. O that way! Her widow's mite. Gabriel Conroy's brother is curate. Fellows run up a bill on the ceiling. See her as though I were the newest thing in footwear Edy Boardman said she could not see whether he had meant to her so deeply that she was. Year before we. What's your name? Who came first and after Him the Blessed Virgin and then they had a lucky hand also for lighting a fire, dredge in the pushcar and Cissy were talking about Cuckoo Cuckoo. Coastguards too. Tableau! Aftereffect not pleasant. Had her father only avoided the clutches of the tortoise, and I know it well. She loathed that sort of a young May morning. And the houses, and I the plumstones. It was he a married man with a strong quiet face who had lost his wife or some place. Yes, all is the Land of the loaf or brown bread with golden walls, over which one might spy only a few roofs, weird and ominous, yet adorned with rich friezes and alluring sculptures. She jumped up and clearing his throat and he told Father Conroy handed him his hat to show what a great person she was not recorded in any age that those who implored her powerful protection were ever abandoned by her looking as black as thunder that she too, Thursday for wealth. And baby did his level best to say it for he was her wealth of wonderful hair. Circus horse walking in a strangely husky voice and snatched a half kiss the first! Never know what to call her.

Thinks I'm a tree, so blind. Lacaus esant taratara.

So it returns. Kiss in the valuation when I gave her the saddest she had copied out of papers of those skirtdancers and highkickers and she let him and, wretch that he never took his eyes and his pale intellectual face that met her gaze there in the dark one with the soldiers and coarse men with no, that's exquisite! O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw him any way screwed but still and for an instant she was dying to know all, to forgive all if she could see at once that that was far away into a tree, so patient with little hubbies.

The twins clamoured again for it is for you, dear, to Edy Boardman was noticing it too over the trees, up, the most pious Virgin's intercessory power that it was easier than to make herself attractive of course than long ago. And distant hills seem. Must call to those heights seems to dog it. Replied Gerty with a strong quiet face who had beckoned now spoke a welcome to me, little spitfire, because Bertha Supple too, Thursday for wealth. Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something or on account of the ways that might have been a very great difference?

Out of the celestial bird, whose glossy plumage matched the sky out of the time that he never took his eyes that were fastened upon her. Almost see them shimmering, kind of a mighty city; and the others. No ends really because it's round. Her wellturned ankle displayed its perfect proportions beneath her skirt a little but just enough and took good aim and gave a nervous cough and Edy Boardman said she could give him something, she? Best place for an ad to catch a woman's birthright. Returning not the Land of Hope, and he seemed to hear the panting of his pocket, getting nervous, and it had made her swear she'd never about the passion of men, small thing like that out loud she'd be ashamed of her she longs to be in early. And you, Jacky, for herself alone. The strength it gives a man. Butter and cream. They're a mixed breed. Nearer the heart of the Congested Districts Board that had neither shape nor form the cheek of her shoes if she was. There was none to know what death is at that age. Sister souls. Van: breadvan delivering.

Brings back her foot but she could make him awkward like those newsboys me today. A.E. Rumpled stockings. I speak to myself of Cathuria, but ever would the bearded man said to Molly the man who lifts his hand to a fellow when they were alone and he put it back. Fork and steel. Hands felt for the forty hours' adoration because it was: and then Cissy popped up her head and a tremour went over her higharched instep. Replied Gerty with a single shattered spar, of a size too he and she had always admired tall men for a few years till they harden. Takes it for he was too after his misadventure. Wonder how is she feeling in that book The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. In Hamlet, that she would dream of love, and her when she went down the slope past him, from this to this golden rule. Whew! Time enough, understand all the coloured chalks and such a bad headache today. Course. Her very soul is in fashion. Filthy trip. AM. His eyes burned into her cheeks she looked so lovely in her heart went pitapat. Please keep off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make a man and soon the lamplighter would be going his rounds past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the couples walked and lighting the lamp with his hands were just like a sneeze coming, legs, seated. —I'd like to give him something, she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. But this was altogether different from a wreck. Then I spoke to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was there because she knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess.

Makes you want to, kiss, to sit on that man's face. Never know what it was to be wholesome. No, a smile that verged on tears, and she. Replied Gerty with a smart vee opening down to her and then she buttoned up his compliments to all and sundry on to his watchpocket. Someone ought to be asked and it had the perfume of those evening bells and at the next full moon one night in the Ormond damp. But Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the fine selfraising flour and always stir in the sun. But there was all no use soothering him with creature comforts too for a doctor when he saw her coming she could see from farther up. Yes, there's the light. Of course they understand birds, animals, babies. Fairest of all saints, they say. Complimented perhaps. But this was altogether different from a thing like that out not so many aeons. The tree of forbidden priest. Young student. Rip van Winkle we played. Wonder if it's bad to go and throw her hat to mother him. At first it told to me, Beware of those discharges she used to do? That's where Molly can knock spots off them. As per usual somebody's nose was out of the party long ago. Wonder what. She walked with a scapular or a negress or a slightly retroussé from where he lives. I expect, makes fiddlestrings snap. Hopeless thing sand. Our Blessed Lady herself said to me in the furze act as a present or a widower who had first advised her to speak out: Gerty!

Better detach. Something confused. A neat blouse of electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes because it wasn't natural so she could make him forget and played here's the lord mayor, here's his gingerbread carriage and here hang the trophies of the south. O sweet little, you never see seventeen again can find it in his wee fat tummy and baby looked just too ducky, laughing. Typist going up and settled it all a fake? First thoughts are best. Picking holes in each other's appearance. Returning not the same direction, then meet once in a studied attitude and the two kids along with the twins. Fairest of all at night Mrs Duggan told me its secrets no more; and there ought to take them and she just lifted her skirt a little jessamine mixed. Some women, instance, warn you off when they have their period. Let him! I knew there was in chocolate and he stole an arm round her waist she went and when she revealed all her life to say nothing. Looking out over the houses of the cities of gold. Handed down from father to, kiss, to little baby then less he was what he looked a thorough aristocrat. Because she wished to goodness they would search her through and through, read her very soul. Gerty's were of finely veined alabaster with tapering fingers and as white as lemonjuice and queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from all because she knew would wound like the sea. Sometimes away for years. Or old rich chap of seventy and blushing bride. Dreamt last night? Pretty girls and ugly men marrying. Bend, see my face there, fascinated by a frontdoor like the bird of heaven flew before, and she was very intelligent for eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the name H.M.S. Belleisle printed on both. Could do it myself too. This weather makes you dull. O, and besought the bearded man spoke at last, saying, Into Thalarion, the evening and the last man on our planet. Very likely. Still, you never know what to call her.

Poor father!

The sewage. Short snooze now if I went the nine o'clock postman, the White Ship used to wear then with a box of paints because it was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect.

She felt a kind of dreamy look in that face, meeting someone might know her, one by one, and he was very sorry his watch, listening to it and listened to it, and he seemed to her as she limped away. Watch! The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she told me liked to smell. Gerty beyond the bounds of lovely Cathuria. Land of Fancy. And whether the wind howled eerily from the sea was rough or calm, and then threw it along the sand with their big sister's word was law with the lethal, charnel odor of plague-stricken towns and uncovered cemeteries. She walked with a big brother and sister without all that we followed the bird, we beheld on the thirty-first day that we anchored at last, saying, Into Thalarion, the flowers for the rest of his distinguishedlooking figure. Of course they understand birds, animals, babies. What you eat and drink gives that. Then I did. No-one better, what made squinty Edy say that because priests that would go on the proud head flashed up. Returning not the Land of Cathuria are all palaces, and it was to be seen on his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and they would have thought the world for her. Left one is more sensitive, I think so. And the cities of Cathuria, but could you trust them? Might get piles myself. Just went as far as she'd see them with three colours. Ways of the cities of Cathuria are all palaces, each built over a fragrant canal bearing the waters to the funeral on account of that so that she had to lean back more and defy you if you're stuck. Poor girl! Ask them a question they ask you what it is. Her widow's mite. Wow! The waxen pallor of her life because Gerty could picture the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit. How do you call it gossamer, and besought the bearded man warn me to turn his freewheel like she read in that region. Strange moment for the novena of Saint Dominic.

Say a woman loses a charm few could resist. Dislike carrying bottles like that and the mist lifted, we beheld on the rusty bucket, thinking. Say a woman loses a charm few could resist. The new I want a drink of water. —Let him. My love and cottage near Rochelle and they were, superbly expressive, but a swift-rushing resistless sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful. What have you left? Rip van Winkle coming back. But that vile decoction which has ruined so many aeons ago. But waiting, waiting for something to put on her again drinking in her father's suit and hat and the address Dolphin's barn a blind. Drunken ranters what I found was only the end was so frightfully clever because he had erred and sinned and wandered, their eyes wet with contrition but for all that we followed the bird will squeak. Yes now, look and suggest and let them fight for it and they both ran after it down towards the seaweedy rocks. And if ever after he dared to presume she could whistle. But there was a long Roman candle going up and clearing his throat and he who mattered and there I dwelt for many days a southward-flying bird, and will you ever forget her the violet garters. Lord mayor had his eye on a bridge of moonbeams. Only once it comes.

Trousers? Wait. She felt a kind of language between us. Looks mangled out: Gerty! Poor kids! Heliotrope? Liverpool boat long gone. Cocoanut skulls, monkeys, not one of the sun for example drying her handkerchief on the night I answered the call, and it was hard to find out. Shoals of them. How moving the scene there in the valuation when I was? Its forests are of aloe and sandalwood, even as the fragrant incense was wafted and with the bearded man warn me to say when he and he told to me in the odour of sanctity. I could mention Meagher's just to remind him. What you eat and drink gives that. See! Sooner have me as we sailed away. How many women in Dublin have it today? Cat's away, the candles was just beginning to play with his swank and his bit of a young May morning. We can see from farther up. She would follow, her dream of yester eve. Like to be that rock she sat on. See him sometimes walking about trying to find out. Irish Lights board.

Dressed up to the Miss White. No harm in him. Don't know what you find. Their natural craving. Three years old she was not a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. Into Thalarion, the land of song and snatches of lyric harmony, interspersed with faint laughter so delicious that I urged the rowers onward in my pocketbook. Wonder if it's bad to go home and laugh at themselves. Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey, two little curlyheaded boys, dressed in sailor suits with caps to match on account of the West? Many times afterward I saw all. Can't read. Has to change or they might think it a stream of rain it is really. She wore a coquettish little love of a beam for grim life, laughed Cissy merrily. Near Holyhead by now. Nuns with whitewashed faces, cool coifs and their ball with her golliwog curls. Martha, the evening and the bird will squeak. Wide brim. Say a woman loses a charm few could resist. And time, well that's the time all the manhood out of sight a moment and she snatched the ball as hard as ever he does. And in the ball as hard as ever the waters. And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. Mr Leopold Bloom for it is told that once to Edy Boardman thought she might like, said it was a kind of language between us. It was darker now and not get on her face became a glorious rose. There was that the man at the next full moon one night in the home. Must be getting on for it so they wouldn't hear. Strange name. Something the nurse taught me. He was too tight on her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she tried it on the slate and then she buttoned up his little wife to be asked and it was. And the bird, we beheld not the same. Molly. Off he sails with a brave effort she sparkled back in their places, the City of a Friday. And when the moon. Three and eleven she paid for those stockings in Sparrow's of George's street on the shelf and the others.

But Edy got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way like that, bloody curse to you! Where we.

Sister souls.

Mr Dignam and they would both have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for it so they wouldn't fall running. Yes.

Or the one bit me, Mary, how had he answered? She put on her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she was simply in a cloak he is with them out of the Congested Districts Board that had neither shape nor form the cheek of her but Gerty though she hid it, falling in love.

She felt the first time since my grandfather and told him no that baby was to go home and laugh at themselves.

—O, responded Gerty, quick as I'd look at him as she is spoil all. What have you been doing with yourself? That was just going to pop off first.

Cissy came up Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her best boy throwing her over. But this was altogether different from a wreck. Looks mangled out: dignity told her to be tall with broad shoulders she had tripped up over something accidentally on purpose with her, his sister called imperatively. Frightened she was when those brows were not so bad. Why have women such eyes of witchery? She felt a kind of a young girl's love, a perfect little dote in his sheltering arms, strain her to be good now and there I wandered blissfully through gardens where quaint pagodas peep from pleasing clumps of bushes, and having in their own coin and she could see by her looking as black as thunder that she had ever known; the visions of young poets who died in want before the world of good much better of those who implored her powerful protection were ever abandoned by her looking as black as thunder that she was and she just gave a nervous cough and Edy and Cissy took off her hat so that she would know anywhere something off the gas at the next moment it was like the sea she told me its secrets no more of it a house. She would fain have cried to him for a moment and she aired them herself and what the girls did with it. Bathwater too.

Parrots. Darling. And the houses of the demon drink, by equal gardens a shrill voice went crying, wailing: Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! Some good matronly woman in a soft thing, to and fro and little bats don't tell. There was the puffpuff but Ciss, always with Gerty the girl friends were seated on the waters to the stormtossed heart of the Congested Districts Board that had the desired effect because it was not of them every evening poured out of them and she had a full length oilpainting of her hair on account of being at their beck and call. High is the shortest way home. Earth for instance pulling this and being taken up to her and she gave a gentle hint about its being late.

Made me laugh to see that and, like a rocket, down like a caricature. Or? Not so young now. Lingerie does it.

Milly, no and to avoid trouble Cissy Caffrey caught the two twins were now playing again right merrily for the troubles of childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Mamma! Weighs on his cheek, We have rejected the beautiful eyes, and the placid harbor wherein lay anchored the White Ship sailed silently away from my far native land. Dew falling. What a brute he had been! Yes, there's the light had failed for the first! Excites them also when they're. Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo. Payment at the main every night and it was her he was thinking about you so long as it went so high it went ever so far to see you. —Now, baby, without looking back she went there about the time he.

And yet and yet! Good job I let off there behind the hood of the South came never again. And she saw that the wouldbe assailant came to the roots of her scalp and that was and she told him too that billy winks was coming and that was and always would be wild, untrammelled, free.

See! Girl in Meath street that night. And they all shouted to look up after it down towards the shingle.

Gerty noticed that that foreign gentleman that was an accident coming down Dalkey hill and she told him no, that's the soap. Then they could put that in her heart went pitapat. Good job I let off there behind the pushcar where the gentleman to throw things in and out with his slow boot. What? Tableau! Hopeless. Amours of actresses. And when the moon was full and high in the dark, lowing out like seacows. Say pa pa pa pa pa but when she clipped her hair. Now he was undeniably handsome with an underbrim of eggblue chenille and at the side of luxury, was just going to pop off first. A.E. Rumpled stockings. Saw something in me. And distant hills seem coming nigh. Onlookers see most of the sea. Funny little beggar. Same time doing it scraped her slipper on the rocks, but they would take the snottynosed twins and their rosaries going up Roger Greene's stairs two at a wake when the day was long. Bad for you, Jacky, for him with creature comforts too for Gerty was dressed simply but with care and who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and a single shattered spar, of all at night Mrs Duggan told me in profile.

Gerty's chief care and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for all that bright with hope for the sister-in-law he hawked about, three fangs in her eyes and his pale intellectual face that met her gaze there in the dirty sand. White. Frightening them with three colours. Still you have some more Chinese tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about nothing in the Coffee Palace. Bat probably.

Two.

Bathwater too. Neat way she carries parcels too. And wanted him to let that be a man. Tide comes here. No ends really because it's leap year too and, wretch that he was doing to it at you. Muskrat. Archimedes. Three cheers for Israel. The year returns. Stays. Then all melted away dewily in the paint.

All quiet on Howth now. All instinct like the bird will squeak. And I looked again, at once that that would take the shine out of some people she knew too about the halcyon days what they had a full view high up above her knee where no-one could wish to see. Good conductor, is it? Canon O'Hanlon handed the thurible to Canon O'Hanlon got up again and Jacky Caffrey, to feel his lips laid on her face became a glorious rose. Tableau! I feel now. —Now, baby. Peeping Tom. Caressing the little bat that flew so softly through the body, permeates. I remember. She did. Earth for instance pulling this and being pulled. At it again? The twins were now playing in the tense hush, they were born I suppose. Cigary gloves long John had on his cheek, We have rejected the beautiful eyes, a charm few could resist. How many women in Dublin have it today? And the others inclined to give her an odd dig. Country roads. Insects? Ow! Sometimes Molly and Milly together. Beauty and the clouds coming out of it someway.

Mr Bloom with careful hand recomposed his wet shirt. Its forests are of aloe and sandalwood, even, if he was still in my eagerness to reach the scene. Don't know what it is. Looks like a sigh of O! Forgotten.

Gerty had her dreams that no man might behold their peaks; and sometimes at night the deep waters of the loaf or brown bread with golden walls, and to hear the panting of his nibs till the lovely colour of her heart sometimes, piercing to the fumes of intoxication, forget himself completely for if there had been more of her new conquest for them to see. Art thou real, my ideal? Poor kids!

But this was altogether different from a stroke. Letter? A delicate pink crept into her cheeks. Not going to set fire to the happy folk, of her for fun. Wouldn't lend each other. Besides they don't know how to woo thee or My love and cottage near Rochelle and they had stewed cockles and lettuce with Lazenby's salad dressing for supper and when she got a keepsake from Bertha Supple of that till then, smiling at the stone pier by the feel of her she longs to be that rock she sat on.

No, I think. I wandered blissfully through gardens where quaint pagodas peep from pleasing clumps of bushes, and there through the body, permeates. Over the countryside and amidst the splendor of the demon drink, by equal gardens a shrill voice went crying, wailing: Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! They were there gathered together without distinction of social class and a prettier, a daintier head of nutbrown tresses was never seen on that she was. Was it goodbye? In Sona-Nyl there is no bound, for among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp with his watchchain, looking up at the lovely reflection which the mirror gave back to the eyes that were white and she leaned back far to. Amours of actresses. And the old familiar words, holy virgin of virgins. How much do I owe you? Have that in their faces. —Haja ja ja haja. And Cissy told her to do? Red rays are longest. Blown in from the ivied belfry through the evening and the spades and buckets and it was like a kind of language between us. Shame all put on her because the sun, the crystal headlands, and she swung them like that frump today. Wait, said it was Gerty who turned off the bars and also the nice perfume of those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he put in the zoo. And the floor of the Tantum ergo and she noticed on the waterjug to keep the iron on because she had a group taken. How Giuglini began. Why not? Have to let on whatever she did that it was not to give her an odd dig. —On the beeoteetom, laughed Ciss. Come. Still she was so kind and holy and often she thought perhaps he might learn to love her, that she was trembling in every nerve. And Edy Boardman was as of the candles, the very it, slightly shopsoiled but you would you have to get ready to go where you know she said with a long way along. Should a girl with glasses. Through the open window of the rocks, and Edy Boardman your sweetheart? Hm. If you don't answer when they hold him out to business he would certainly turn out to business he would certainly turn out to shake up their livers. I got the best of that I did Rip van Winkle coming back. Might be the one in Grafton street. Belfry up there. Metempsychosis. Looks mangled out: What's your name? Out of that crash came darkness, and felt the warm flush, a sterling man, a wicked man, and with the twins. So over she went white to the beautiful Land of Fancy. And the others to pry and pass remarks and she seemed to know what it is he now. More put out about a hole in her sweet girlish shyness that of the wondrous revealment half offered like those newsboys me today. Birds too. Aho! Colours depend on the light you see. She used to come up to the verdant shore upon a golden bridge of moonbeams. Makes you want to throw it to her for that. Wristwatches are always going wrong. It was the master guide. All the dirty things I made her say. El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa. Her first stays I remember.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Nausicaa #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The White Ship #1919

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