First he tickled her
Then he patted her
Then he passed the female catheter.
For he was a medical jolly old medi.
– I feel you would need one more for Hamlet. Seven is dear to the mystic mind. The shining seven W. B. calls them.
Glittereyed, his rufous skull close to his greencapped desklamp sought the face, bearded amid darkgreener shadow, an ollav, holyeyed. He laughed low: a sizar’s laugh of Trinity: unanswered.
Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood
Tears such as angels weep.
Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta.
James Joyce, Ulysses (Episode 9 – Scylla And Charybdis)
Φωτογραφία: Robert Doisneau