apr 18, 2012
“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.. . .”
Chapter 3 returns to “normal” narrative for a moment. Women descend to the sea. Swinburne.