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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 64/821
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Stephen
closed
his
eyes
to
hear
his
boots
crush
crackling
wrack
and
shells
.
You
are
walking
through
it
howsomever
.
I
am
,
a
stride
at
a
time
.
A
very
short
space
of
time
through
very
short
times
of
space
.
Five
,
six
:
the
nacheinander
.
Exactly
:
and
that
is
the
ineluctable
modality
of
the
audible
.
Open
your
eyes
.
No
.
Jesus
!
If
I
fell
over
a
cliff
that
beetles
o
’
er
his
base
,
fell
through
the
nebeneinander
ineluctably
!
I
am
getting
on
nicely
in
the
dark
.
My
ash
sword
hangs
at
my
side
.
Tap
with
it
:
they
do
.
My
two
feet
in
his
boots
are
at
the
ends
of
his
legs
,
nebeneinander
.
Sounds
solid
:
made
by
the
mallet
of
Los
Demiurgos
.
Am
I
walking
into
eternity
along
Sandymount
strand
?
Crush
,
crack
,
crick
,
crick
.
Wild
sea
money
.
Dominie
Deasy
kens
them
a
’
.
Won
’
t
you
come
to
Sandymount
,
Madeline
the
mare
?
Rhythm
begins
,
you
see
.
I
hear
.
A
catalectic
tetrameter
of
iambs
marching
.
No
,
agallop
:
deline
the
mare
.
Open
your
eyes
now
.
I
will
.
One
moment
.
Has
all
vanished
since
?
If
I
open
and
am
for
ever
in
the
black
adiaphane
.
Basta
!
I
will
see
if
I
can
see
.
See
now
.
There
all
the
time
without
you
:
and
ever
shall
be
,
world
without
end
.
They
came
down
the
steps
from
Leahy
’
s
terrace
prudently
,
Frauenzimmer
:
and
down
the
shelving
shore
flabbily
,
their
splayed
feet
sinking
in
the
silted
sand
.
Like
me
,
like
Algy
,
coming
down
to
our
mighty
mother
.
Number
one
swung
lourdily
her
midwife
’
s
bag
,
the
other
’
s
gamp
poked
in
the
beach
.
From
the
liberties
,
out
for
the
day
.
Mrs
Florence
MacCabe
,
relict
of
the
late
Patk
MacCabe
,
deeply
lamented
,
of
Bride
Street
.
One
of
her
sisterhood
lugged
me
squealing
into
life
.
Creation
from
nothing
.
What
has
she
in
the
bag
?
A
misbirth
with
a
trailing
navelcord
,
hushed
in
ruddy
wool
.
The
cords
of
all
link
back
,
strandentwining
cable
of
all
flesh
.
That
is
why
mystic
monks
.
Will
you
be
as
gods
?
Gaze
in
your
omphalos
.
Hello
.
Kinch
here
.
Put
me
on
to
Edenville
.
Aleph
,
alpha
:
nought
,
nought
,
one
.
Spouse
and
helpmate
of
Adam
Kadmon
:
Heva
,
naked
Eve
.
She
had
no
navel
.
Gaze
.
Belly
without
blemish
,
bulging
big
,
a
buckler
of
taut
vellum
,
no
,
whiteheaped
corn
,
orient
and
immortal
,
standing
from
everlasting
to
everlasting
.
Womb
of
sin
.
Wombed
in
sin
darkness
I
was
too
,
made
not
begotten
.
By
them
,
the
man
with
my
voice
and
my
eyes
and
a
ghostwoman
with
ashes
on
her
breath
.
They
clasped
and
sundered
,
did
the
coupler
’
s
will
.
From
before
the
ages
He
willed
me
and
now
may
not
will
me
away
or
ever
.
A
lex
eterna
stays
about
Him
.
Is
that
then
the
divine
substance
wherein
Father
and
Son
are
consubstantial
?
Where
is
poor
dear
Arius
to
try
conclusions
?
Warring
his
life
long
upon
the
contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality
.
