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The darting pain ran against the right side of myface. If I could turn the clock back to Thursdaythe first, Iā€™d have got off my chair faster & that was the cause ā€“ getting frozen in a draft before the curfew standing on top of mygreen painting chair, pinning the vermilion blankets over the windowfor the black-out with Scissors Number 1 in myhand for protection. A pure perishing mist rose up from under the bridge while I stood foolishlytoo long, with the scissors. The two rivers twining & separating in mymind, a pair of snakes ā€“ the Lee & the Blackwater ā€“ had I left myhusband underwater in Cork onlyfor him to resurrect himself in Mallow?


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