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- Джеймс Джойс
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Pincushions
.
I
’
m
a
long
time
threatening
to
buy
one
.
Sticking
them
all
over
the
place
.
Needles
in
window
curtains
.
He
bared
slightly
his
left
forearm
.
Scrape
:
nearly
gone
.
Not
today
anyhow
.
Must
go
back
for
that
lotion
.
For
her
birthday
perhaps
.
Junejulyaugseptember
eighth
.
Nearly
three
months
off
.
Then
she
mightn
’
t
like
it
.
Women
won
’
t
pick
up
pins
.
Say
it
cuts
lo
.
Gleaming
silks
,
petticoats
on
slim
brass
rails
,
rays
of
flat
silk
stockings
.
Useless
to
go
back
.
Had
to
be
.
Tell
me
all
.
High
voices
.
Sunwarm
silk
.
Jingling
harnesses
.
All
for
a
woman
,
home
and
houses
,
silkwebs
,
silver
,
rich
fruits
spicy
from
Jaffa
.
Agendath
Netaim
.
Wealth
of
the
world
.
A
warm
human
plumpness
settled
down
on
his
brain
.
His
brain
yielded
.
Perfume
of
embraces
all
him
assailed
.
With
hungered
flesh
obscurely
,
he
mutely
craved
to
adore
.
Duke
street
.
Here
we
are
.
Must
eat
.
The
Burton
.
Feel
better
then
.
He
turned
Combridge
’
s
corner
,
still
pursued
.
Jingling
,
hoofthuds
.
Perfumed
bodies
,
warm
,
full
.
All
kissed
,
yielded
:
in
deep
summer
fields
,
tangled
pressed
grass
,
in
trickling
hallways
of
tenements
,
along
sofas
,
creaking
beds
.
—
Jack
,
love
!
—
Darling
!
