Nothing better than an oasis of humanity in a big city of humanity.
Nothing better than to be, anonymously.
Nothing better than to fiddle and faddle with tills and tools, and tattles and tittles, and stuff and staff, and stiffnesses from times past that begin to drop away like skin from a snake which used to be present but not now: a snake once of power but no longer that so.
An afternoon spent around and about the lawns of Trinity College, Dublin – lawns where humanity walks and plays and lies down and hugs, about and around the signs which falteringly request we keep off – is precisely this afternoon of oh-ace-is. And I can think of really nothing better to do right now.
And I need nothing better than this. From a blutiful concrete to the Irish green of fisheye freedoms, the day slowly progresses entrancely. And everything arights itself for just a moment.
All that I miss now is you, whoever you are.
And maybe one day, too, you will present yourself – and then the oh-ace-is will not be just now: the oh-ace-is will be oh-ace-eternal.